


Serenity: Kirkwall

by Fuzzybuttkins



Series: Dragon Age: Serenity [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Black Emporium (Dragon Age), Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Forgiveness, Gen, Grey Wardens, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Addiction, Mage Underground, Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Mages (Dragon Age), Meaningful conversations, Moral Dilemmas, Pining, Redemption, Romance, Sex on the Knight Captain's Desk, Slow Burn, Templar Retirement, Templars (Dragon Age), The Randy Dowager Quarterly, Unlikely Friendships, mage abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 145,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzybuttkins/pseuds/Fuzzybuttkins
Summary: During the events of Dragon Age II, Serenity finds Cullen in Kirkwall, dedicates herself to searching for a cure for the Calling, and tries to save Anders.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Warden
Series: Dragon Age: Serenity [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708942
Comments: 46
Kudos: 11





	1. Injustice

**Author's Note:**

> Previously, during Origins:
> 
> Serenity tried to help Jowan escape the Circle because she couldn't bear the thought of seeing her best friend made Tranquil. She gratefully pledged her loyalty to the Grey Wardens, but adjusting to her new life wasn't easy. Encountering darkspawn, witnessing horrific violence and death firsthand, and discovering the horrors hidden in the Deep Roads still give her nightmares--but her purpose is more important than her comfort. 
> 
> She killed Connor, thinking it the only viable way to deal with the demon that possessed him. Having been raised in the Circle, she thought the templars would make no exceptions for abominations and acted on all she knew. She learned more about the templars through Alistair and those she met outside the Circle. It is in part because of them that she decided to dabble in blood magic, so that she could fuel her spells without the risk of lyrium addiction. 
> 
> When she found Jowan escorting civilians north to escape the blight, she conscripted him into the Wardens to save him from being hunted down by the templars. When Alistair professed his feelings for her, she was confused--she still harbored feelings for Cullen, but she also believed they were unrealistic and impossible to act upon. Her friendship with Alistair was built on trust and reliance on one another through traumatic and trying circumstances. When she suggested he take the throne, however, they ended their budding romance before it could truly begin. Thinking she might die in the final battle against the Archdemon, she wrote a letter to Cullen, hoping it would find him afterwards. She traveled with Jowan and Zevran for a time after defeating the Archdemon, but she tried to keep in touch with all of her companions, especially Wynne and Leliana. 
> 
> Previously, during Awakening: 
> 
> Serenity took Jowan with her to Vigil's Keep. She believes everyone is worthy of redemption. In trying to live up to Duncan's standard, she gave Nathaniel the choice to join her and formed a close friendship with him over the course of the darkspawn's civil war. She also got to know Anders and felt a kinship with him unlike any other. She kept a close eye on Justice since he involuntarily crossed the veil and tried to remind him not to confuse himself for the body he inhabited. At first distrusting of Velanna, she did not offer her the power she sought--but after time, she invited her to join the Wardens, only for the elf to decline. She met Fiona and after learning what she knew of the Architect, killed him with only some hesitation. She knew he was far too dangerous and powerful to let live. After the civil war ended, Velanna remained a friend but went her own way. Sigrun returned to the Deep Roads to aid the Legion of the Dead but still serves the Wardens. Nate, Oghren, Jowan, and Anders serve at Vigil's Keep.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Serenity returns to Vigil's Keep after spending several months away, she is livid to learn what happened to Anders. She doesn't intend to chase after him though, instead finally resolving to seek out Cullen in Kirkwall.

When Serenity returned to Vigil’s Keep after two months away on her expedition deep beneath Orzammar, she learned from Nathaniel what had transpired in her absence, at least to his knowledge—and she was devastated.

_Anders is gone._

“He felt he was being bullied. He felt betrayed by the order,” Nathaniel said. “I wasn’t there, but he turned on our men. Or our men turned on him.”

She didn’t have a chance to say goodbye or a chance to plead with him to stay—or to consider going with him. 

“Justice is gone, too. We don’t know where he went or if he even still exists.”

That left her with too many questions and too much to worry about. She should have kept him close. She shouldn’t have let him out of her sight. She had promised to watch over him and then she broke that promise. 

“How could this happen…?” she asked, searching his face for answers. 

What she really wanted to ask was _‘Is this my fault?’_

“A templar was recruited into the order not a month after you left,” Nathaniel said. “At first glance, it seemed Ser Rolan was tasked with watching over Justice, but it seemed to me he took a greater interest in watching over Anders.” 

“Anders had a reputation,” Serenity said dolefully. “If they had any suspicion over Ser Rylock’s disappearance…”

“I’ll tell you more, but you should speak with Seneschal Garevel,” Nathaniel advised. “The Warden-Constable from Weisshaupt spoke candidly with him.”

Serenity thought she should have come back for Anders. She should have been there to protect him. The Grey Wardens kept a vault of secrets themselves. What harm could it have done to have taken him with her into the Amgarrak thaig? 

She had left Vigil’s Keep and the Wardens in Seneschal Garevel’s hands, but she knew the responsibility didn’t lie squarely on his shoulders. Weisshaupt had seen to send reinforcements to help bolster their ranks and train recruits. She should have been there to receive them.

* * *

  
“Commander,” Garevel greeted her.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said grimly. “What happened to Anders?”

Garevel was quiet for a moment, having never seen her angry, let alone been the recipient of one of her deadly glares. She had acted cavalier with attempted assassins, but she looked like he just insulted her mother. 

“We don’t know, Commander. His phylactery is still in possession of the Chantry, but it seems they can’t use it to find him.”

Serenity had learned from Fiona why, aside from the autonomy of the order, mage-wardens needn’t worry about their stored phylacteries and the overreaching hand of the Chantry.

“The Joining changes us,” she said. “It transforms us through our blood. Whatever connection Anders had to his phylactery is null.”

“That… does the Chantry know?”

“They might, depending on whether they’ve tried to hunt Wardens before. But it shouldn’t be their concern,” she said. “The Chantry has no jurisdiction over the Grey Wardens. Were you the one that told them to send a templar? Did you ask them to watch over Anders in case he became an abomination?”

“What? No! Is that why you—” he started. “Justice was becoming unhinged, Commander. I am no mage and no expert on the Fade, but even I could see what happened with Kristoff was unnatural. I only did not voice my disagreement in letting that spirit aid us because I trusted you. You kept the thing close until you left. But as its body deteriorated, so did its will to exert control grow. Isn’t that what makes a demon? An abomination?”

He was right. She realized he was not to blame at all for what went wrong in her absence. She had allowed Justice to stay. She had trusted him to retain his nature unchanged.

“What about Anders?” she asked.

“I… believe he has become an abomination, serah,” Garevel answered. “They were sent on a mission. We didn’t want Justice to go, but he insisted. He was not one to sit idly by and wait for an assignment. The party never returned. We sent others to investigate and discovered the bodies of all—including Kristoff. But Anders was nowhere to be found. There were signs of magic unlike any they’d ever seen. Signs of strength only a demon can exert.”

Serenity knew if Justice had tried to possess Anders against his will, he would have failed. Anders had to have consented to their union. If she had only been there, she could have witnessed the change in Justice herself. She would not have waited for him to possess one of their mages before attempting to send him back to the Fade herself. But it was too late now. 

“Why did you take Ser Pounce-a-lot?” she asked sullenly.

“I did no such thing, Commander,” he said. “The Warden-Constable sent from Weisshaupt said it made him soft. He was mentoring mage-recruits and training them. It was an embarrassing representation of the order—according to the Warden-Constable, serah. I tried to tell him the cat was a gift, but it didn't matter. He did not want others distracted from their duties to care for it in Anders' absence.”

“Where is this Warden-Constable?” Serenity asked, seething. “I will have him sent back to Weisshaupt.”

“In pieces, it sounds like,” Nathaniel said, walking up behind her.

“Do not tempt me,” she said. Crushing Prison could easily make that happen. Not that she would actually commit murder. But then again, it wasn’t murder if he was only missing his arms.

“That won’t be necessary,” Garevel said. “The Warden-Constable was among the dead.”

“I will inform the Chamberlain,” she said bitterly.

“Take a deep breath,” Nathaniel advised, setting his hand on her shoulder. 

Her anger gave way to shame. She was ashamed of what the Wardens did to Anders. She wondered if it was true, if he was an abomination and whether they drove him to accept Justice’s offer by making him feel trapped again. If they hadn’t encroached on his newfound freedom and belittled him for his affection for Ser Pounce-a-lot, perhaps he wouldn’t have felt he needed the spirit’s help. 

“They couldn’t just let him be,” she muttered. “They had to send a templar to breathe down his neck and took from him the one comfort he had left.”

“The cat is in Amaranthine,” Garevel added hesitantly. “Commander, I know you care a great deal for the man—”

“He was a spirit healer. He was my friend,” she said and felt her lips tremble. “He had a big heart. He only wanted to help people.”

He had always gone out of his way to make her feel better, even for the smallest pains, the ones she didn’t think he would notice. A little healing spell here and there for her sore feet or a headache. The other comforts that magic couldn’t provide. A self-deprecating joke to make her smile, an arm around her shoulders to remind her she wasn’t alone. 

She missed him. 

“You haven’t seen the bodies,” Garevel said slowly. “This wasn’t Anders’ doing. I know the man you speak of, but this wasn’t him. Their eyes were burnt out with liquid fire. They were torn limb from limb. No man could do what he did. It was Justice. Or... whatever one would call that demon now.”

“I…” Serenity felt the fight leave her and knew there was no sense taking her frustration out on Garevel. “I’m sorry. I need to be alone to think… and pray. I’m leaving again soon and I’m not sure for how long. I will name a Warden-Lieutenant and see that we promote from within our ranks if those bloody bastards in Weisshaupt will allow it.”

“You’re leaving?” Garevel asked, dismayed. “Are you going to look for Anders?”

“No, I… wouldn’t know where to start or even what to say if I found him,” she said.

“Who would you appoint as your Lieutenant, Commander?”

Serenity turned to face Nathaniel and tilted her head. “What do you say, Nate? Will you take the job?”

“Me?” he asked, surprised. “It would be an honor. I will keep you apprised of what goes on here and whether those ‘bloody bastards’ send more Wardens of their choosing to rule the roost while you’re gone.”

“I trust you,” she said and gave the seneschal an apologetic look. “Both of you.”

* * *

  
Serenity climbed the stairs to her bed chamber, surprised to find Jowan waiting for her in the hallway outside her door.

“Thank the Maker you’re back!” he said, wrapping his arms around her so tightly he lifted her off her feet with his hug. “The Wardens that came here were awful, Serenity. I saw how they treated Anders. It wasn’t right. Who in their right mind would make someone give away their cat?” “Bloody bastards, that’s who,” Serenity answered.

“There was a templar-warden, but he wasn’t like Alistair. He was more like Ivan, stalking Anders around the courtyard,” he said. “I wanted to do something or say something, but… Anders told me not to get involved. He told me not to ‘give them a reason’ and to keep my head down. I know what he meant, but… it’s supposed to be different from the Circle. It didn’t feel any different.”

“I’m so sorry,” Serenity said.

It was supposed to be different. They were supposed to feel safe. They were supposed to work together. Her mages were Grey Wardens—equals, not charges to the templars. 

“I left Vigil’s Keep before what happened,” Jowan said. “I stayed in Amaranthine until Nathaniel wrote me to say they were gone.”

She had no idea what the Wardens from Weisshaupt were like or what their rules were. She only knew what she’d learned from Duncan, Alistair, and Sofia Dryden prior to inheriting the rank of Commander. She knew she was to report to the Chamberlain and that there was a First Warden sitting at the top, but she knew nothing more than that. What the Constable ordered against Anders left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“What do we do now?” Jowan asked.

“We rebuild,” she answered. “I’ve assumed a task that I know can’t be accomplished immediately. It will take patience and a lot of research.”

“You’re talking about the Calling, aren’t you?”

“I want to find a cure. Not just for us but for anyone who contracts the disease.”

“You’re going to be helping that crazy old geezer you left in Soldier’s Peak, aren’t you?” Jowan asked.

“When I get back,” she said. “I’m going to the Free Marches. I doubt I’ll be gone for long, but I want to see an old friend.”

Jowan groaned, “You’re leaving again? After what happened?”

“I’m leaving Nathaniel in charge while I’m gone,” she said. “Without the immediate threat of darkspawn, I don’t see it necessary for me to stay here. I’ve laid out our plans and Garevel knows more about the specifics that go into it than I do. We’re looking at months, maybe years, of repairs to the keep and the city.”

Jowan sighed, “I don’t suppose I could come with you?”

“This is a trip I need to make alone,” she said. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “What will you do if you find Anders?”

“I don’t know. I’m not going to seek him out,” she said. “I hope that he can find somewhere to be free and not cause any trouble… if he’s still himself.”

“You’d let him go,” Jowan predicted.

Serenity crossed her arms and fixed him with a look. “You think I should do something else?”

“No, not saying that,” he answered. “Just that I know you. He wouldn’t be taken alive and there’s no way you’d kill him. I mean, weren’t the deaths he caused justified?”

“I… I don’t know,” Serenity answered. “What the Wardens did was wrong, but whether it warranted death, I can’t say. Justice is not human. I would have to speak to Anders and hear his account of what happened.”

“Just be careful, Serenity. If he thinks you’re there to punish him, he might attack you too.”

“I’ve killed demons stronger than Justice and emissaries stronger than Anders,” she said.

“But you haven’t killed a friend.”

“Enough talk about killing,” she said, feeling her stomach turn at the thought. “You’ll take over Anders’ duties teaching the mage recruits.”

“You’d trust me to teach the recruits?” he asked uncertainly. “Even after…?”

“They have all passed their Harrowing,” Serenity answered. “You can teach them what not to do by your hard won experience, in addition to fighting darkspawn.”

Jowan sighed, “I suppose I deserve that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to ' Run (Where the Lights Are) by The Blind Love ' while writing this one.


	2. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity settles in at the Hanged Man and finds Cullen at the chantry. She had hoped he would be happy to see her, but he still harbors unresolved resentment.

Serenity was excited, if a bit nervous, to board a ship and cross the Waking Sea. Zevran had spoken about the ocean with nostalgia, but Sten held less fondness for travel on water. She spent most of her first day on deck, dizzy from the constant motion and thought Oghren would have had a heart attack if he had come with her. She imagined the only thing more disorienting than the Fade for the dwarf would be not having their feet on solid ground. She slept away the bout of nausea and became accustomed to the rhythmic rocking of the vessel.

Kirkwall looked to be twice the size of Denerim on her approach, and the statues on either cliffside entering the harbor were hardly welcoming. She knew the Free Marches were composed of several city-states, each with their own Circle, but she didn’t know much about all of the different cities aside from their names. 

She knew Fereldens fled north during the blight and weren’t looked on too kindly by the native Free Marchers, but she hadn’t thought to ask about the Circles, assuming they were as restrictive as Ferelden’s. It seemed a rather foolish oversight as she stepped onto the docks, conscientious of how she was dressed. Her robes and staff would at least make the templars suspicious of her, and although she was rarely uncomfortable around them in Ferelden, she was in a foreign land now. In Ferelden, she was a hero. Here, in the Free Marches, would that even matter? Or would she just be another mage? Another knife-ear?

“Well, it’s too late to have second thoughts now. It wouldn’t have killed me to pick up a book before boarding the ship. Something that mentioned the giant statues of slaves, perhaps,” Serenity said and looked down at Mabari-Cullen. “First things first. We need a map of the city. Maybe you can sniff out the nearest tavern?”

* * *

  
Lowtown was ugly. It was all stone and metal, rusted and corroded, discolored by the moisture in the air and…

“Is that blood?” Serenity asked. 

Mabari-Cullen sniffed the dried smear in question and whined. 

_This is where our people fled to?_

It felt so far from home.

_Why are there so many stairs?_

The city was built on a mountain, but even the lower parts of the city had changes in elevation the further inland she went. 

“People here must have nice butts from climbing all these steps,” Serenity thought aloud and patted Mabari-Cullen’s rump playfully. 

M.C. stopped in front of a door with a wood carved hanged man dangling from a rope affixed to a rusted metal bracket protruding from the top of the stone wall and barked. Serenity trusted her dog, but she pushed the door open with some apprehension. The first thing she saw when they walked in was a large blood stain soaked into the wooden planks on the floor. 

“Welcome to the Hanged Man!” Corff, the bartender, greeted her as he wiped a mug. “Haven't seen you around here before. Get lost on your way to the alienage?”

“I was hoping to buy a map of the city,” Serenity said, relieved to find it was, in fact, a tavern—and the bartender looked friendlier than the city itself.

“Varric would be the man you want to see about that. Stroll down that hallway and head straight. Just look for the dwarf with the hairy chest.”

She followed his directions up the stairs and knocked on the open door to the room furnished with dwarven artifacts and fixtures. “Excuse my intrusion.”

“What do we have here?” Varric asked curiously as he marked his page and closed his book. “You know, I have a friend with a mabari. I bet they would get along.” 

“Is your friend’s mabari a girl?” Serenity asked. “He likes girls.” 

“Her name is Petunia,” Varric answered and tossed M.C. a treat before standing up and walking across the room to a pile of papers. “What business do you have in Kirkwall? Are you a merchant?”

“I’m just visiting a friend,” Serenity answered. “I’m looking for a map.” 

Varric laid a map out on his table for her to look at. “A friend? And what would be this friend's name, if you don't mind me asking? I might be able to help you find them.”

“I have a pretty good idea of where to find him… but thank you,” she said, scanning the map. “Where is the chantry?”

“In Hightown,” he answered and pointed it out for her. “You can’t miss it, trust me.”

“Do you know if there is a chapel inside the Circle of Magi?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you because I’ve never been inside,” he answered. “There may be a priest on site, but I don’t know about an allocated space for worship. It doesn’t seem like the kind of place that would have one.”

“Would you happen to know if the templars ever leave the Circle to worship at the chantry in Hightown?” she asked. 

“Heh, I like you,” Varric grinned.

Serenity smiled, “Why?”

“Because you think I know everything,” he said. “It’s a long ferry ride from the Gallows, but the chantry does see a lot of templars.”

That was a relief. It might take some patience, but that was really the only option she had to put herself in Cullen’s path. If she walked into the Circle, it would raise the question of why she was there.

“Can I buy this map from you?” she asked. 

“I’ll let you have it for free,” he said and rolled it up for her.

“Thank you, Varric,” she said, reaching for her money pouch. She offered him a silver coin. “Please, accept this for your kindness. If I can’t find my friend, I’ll be back to ask for help.”

“My door is always open,” he said and accepted the silver. “A little bit of advice. Try not to travel the streets at night. That’s when the bad guys come out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “I should probably find an inn.”

“If you don’t have high standards, they let rooms here,” Varric said. “But judging by the Spellfury on your back, you have pretty high standards.”

“You do know everything,” she smirked. “But I care more for discretion than I do a soft bed.” 

“Talk to Corff. He’ll set you up,” Varric said.

  
After purchasing a few basic garments that didn’t look suspiciously Tevinter, Serenity retired early to her room at the Hanged Man. She was aware of how frizzy the salt water made her hair, and she intended to take a long bath. She would have been mortified if Cullen saw her at the docks when she arrived. 

The bed she slept on wasn’t as terrible as she thought it would be, but it felt like there was a rock stuffed in the mattress. When she lifted it up to inspect it, she found a bloody knife hidden in the stuffing. 

“Maker preserve us,” Serenity sighed and exchanged looked with Mabari-Cullen where he stretched out at the foot of her bed. “At least the blood is dry.”

* * *

  
Hightown looked like a completely different city from the poverty-stricken slums below. The architecture was similar but cleaner and decorated with red tapestries or climbing foliage that lent the district some much needed color that brought it to life.

Following the map Varric marked for her, Serenity understood what he meant when he said she couldn’t miss it. The chantry was impressive… to say the least. She had never seen anything like it and imagined only the cathedral in Val Royeaux could compare. The brass statues of Andraste towered over the stairwells on either side of the entrance, giving them the illusion of an even taller stature. 

“More stairs,” Serenity muttered as she mustered up the strength in her legs to start climbing.

The templar stationed in front of the chantry board noticed her and called out, “Halt!”

Serenity looked around, though she was pretty sure he was addressing her. “Me?” 

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the stairs, and asked, “What business does a knife-ear have coming to the Chantry?”

She didn’t often hear such demeaning racial slurs in the Circle, but she had grown somewhat accustomed to hearing them in the big cities. “I came to pray. For what other reason would I come?”

“I didn’t think your kind prayed to the Maker,” he said, crossing his arms. “You could be up to no good.”

“Most elves worship the Creators, but I follow the Chantry’s teachings,” Serenity answered and glanced back up the steep incline. “But I can’t say I would want to make the voyage up here too often. My legs already feel like jelly—and then there are more stairs! Do you think the Divine at the time ordered it to be built this way as a test of faith, like walking the gauntlet in the Temple of Sacred Ashes? Because I think this is even harder.” 

“Like you would know anything about that. I’ve never seen you around here before. You could be a rebel mage for all I know,” he scoffed as he eyed her plain robes, too long around her ankles so the hem was dirty from dragging across the ground. 

Sensing a threat, Mabari-Cullen growled softly.

“Shh, boy,” Serenity hushed him.

“You’ll control that mutt before I have him put down,” the templar threatened.

Mabari-Cullen looked up at Serenity and let out a disdainful whine, then looked at the templar and chuffed at him.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, quickly learning mabaris were not as common in the Free Marches as they were in Ferelden. She knew M.C. could take that templar in a fight, and she would be sure to tell him so later. “Would you have me recite the Maker’s blessing for you? Perhaps then you’ll let me in to receive mine.” 

“How dare you take that tone with me. I should teach you to respect your betters, elf!”

Mabari-Cullen lowered his head, his lips twitching with the want to bare his teeth and warn the templar that he was coming dangerously close to being bit.

“Maybe I should speak to somebody else in your order, ser,” she suggested. 

“Who would want to waste their time hearing your petty complaints?”

“Somebody other than you, I would guess.”

“I should cut out your tongue for that one!”

“I’m pretty sure if I just ran up the other set of stairs, you wouldn’t be able to catch me,” she said and crossed her arms to mimic his look of disapproval. She knew playing this game with him was a stupid thing to do, but if he expected her to cower, she would take some pleasure in disappointing him. 

* * *

  
When Cullen first arrived in Kirkwall, he spent a considerable amount of time at the chantry in Hightown. It was a safe haven in a strange, desolate land. Outside the city walls, the coast and mountains offered a scenic landscape. But he hardly left the city walls. He hardly left the Gallows.  
The Gallows was built to be a prison and populated by Tevinter slaves fifteen hundred years prior. It still served that function as a Circle of Magi. He had felt suffocated in the Ferelden Circle, but the Gallows weren’t any better. The Knight-Commander allowed him to perform his duties from the courtyard, but surrounded by the dispiriting statues of tortured slaves, the air still felt stifling.

He had business to tend to in the city, beginning in Hightown—a missive to deliver and the beginnings of an investigation to conduct. 

_Milk and honey._

Her skin and hair looked like milk and honey, pale gold under the filtered sunlight diluted by the fog that came in from the harbor. He caught himself thinking about her and inwardly scolded himself.

_Maker's breath. It isn't even--_

He saw the mabari beside her and looked again. The beaded strands of hair, her lithe figure, and the way she crossed her arms--either in amusement or stark disapproval. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was actually her this time.

_What is she doing here?_

He would be the last person she'd want to see, surely, after all that he said the last time he saw her. When he was transferred, he was certain he would never have another chance to speak with her. She was there now, but he had no idea what to say. 

Noticing the hostility of his recruit blocking her way, Cullen strode over to them to intervene. “Is there a problem here, recruit?” 

The templar stood at attention and answered, “Knight-Captain, this knife-ear—”

“What have I told you about using that derogatory term?” 

“I—sorry,” the templar stammered. “This elf was trying to gain access to the chantry, and I thought she might be up to something, ser.”

“All have a right to pray here. Stand down,” Cullen ordered. He saw the glimmer of recognition in her eyes, though she didn’t betray any familiarity between them, and said, “I’ll escort you into the chantry.”

Cullen walked beside her up the steps, making every effort to keep his eyes ahead of him. She walked so closely to him—or maybe it was his imagination. He cast a quick sidelong glance at her, noticing at first the same brass beads adorning her hair and then the drab robes she wore, belying who she was. 

When they reached the landing, he opened the chantry door for her and met her eyes for the first time. He thought he would see resentment there or apprehension. But she smiled. 

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” she said, looking up at him. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Hero of Ferelden, I’d say you’ve done better,” he said, relieved there was no one within earshot as they walked down the aisle. “I never would have predicted the Hero of Ferelden would be a mage. But I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”

“More stairs, even within the chapel,” Serenity muttered as he led her up the curved staircase toward the altar of Andraste.

He had thought about the day he would see her again, if he ever would, but he still didn’t know how to react to her being there now. He had accepted that he might never set foot on Ferelden soil again, and without being stationed there, there would be no place for their paths to cross. She still crossed his mind though. She was still a distraction, even when she wasn’t there. 

“What are you doing in Kirkwall?” he asked. “Are you here on Warden’s business?”

“No, I...” she started hesitantly. “Since what happened… I was afraid you might never recover.”

He hadn’t expected her to bring that up, not right away at least. It wasn’t something he ever spoke about, not at length or in any detail. He had tried to speak with a priest once when he was asked, but it proved too difficult to confront. Putting it into words made it feel closer, more real. 

He had to try to bury those memories so he could continue his duty without being crushed by it. Only Knight-Commander Meredith knew about the circumstances surrounding his transfer, and she had given him the courtesy of not prying. She offered him more than Greagoir could. Greagoir hadn't been locked inside, trapped behind those barred doors. He didn’t see what the blood mages and abominations did to each other and to his brothers and sisters in arms. But Meredith knew. She saw with her own eyes the worst a mage, even an inexperienced one, could do. 

Serenity had seen the aftermath of the onslaught, but she hadn’t seen the start of it. She saw the bodies, but she didn’t see them as they fled or fought futilely. The templars had been helpless against the overwhelming force that swept through the halls, possessing those too weak to defend themselves. He could still hear their screams. 

“I doubt I ever will,” he said quietly, averting his gaze. “But I refused to let what happened prevent me from keeping my vow to the order.”

“What happened will never be forgiven or forgotten,” she said and emphasized, “by any of us.”

“As templars, we grew too complacent. We should have seen it coming.”

Greagoir had always been lauded as a model templar, but after what he allowed happen at the Circle, Cullen couldn’t look up to him the same way he did as a recruit. Knight-Commander Meredith though—she was careful, steadfast, vigilant, unshakeable. She didn’t allow the pleas of the First Enchanter to soften her resolve. 

“You couldn't have known,” Serenity said. “The elder mages who trusted Uldred were betrayed too. He distracted the First Enchanter by sussing out blood mages within the Circle—the same blood mages he influenced. They should have seen the signs, they should have listened. But he was so convincing.” 

“You’re right. They should have known. Like you should have—"

Cullen caught himself and took a breath. She had been reckless, careless, _selfish._ When it came down to it, she would rather risk letting blood mages run free than ensure order. She made that choice again and again. But it didn’t feel right to harbor so much resentment towards the one that ended the onslaught and saved his life. 

“I can take my lashes. If you have something to say, I will hear it,” she said, steeling herself. 

“You should have known better than to help that blood mage escape,” he said, subduing his anger with an even tone. His teeth ached from how hard he clenched his jaw. He had been disappointed in her when he heard about it, but he hadn't been angry with her. 

“I know Jowan better than anyone, and I knew his heart was pure, even after he lied to me. I know you think I made a mistake, but even now, I do not,” she said.

“I can see how you would have fallen for his ruse. But how can you not see the mistake you made, even now?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“It wasn’t a ruse. It was just naïve,” she said softly, feeling her resolve waver. “Jowan and Lily truly loved each other, and he wanted to run away with her and live a normal life. He didn’t tell me the truth because he thought I might turn him in.”

“But you wouldn’t have.”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “I don’t know if Jowan would have passed his Harrowing if he had been allowed to undergo the rite. He lacked confidence. He told me he only practiced blood magic to be a better mage. He did it because he felt inferior to me. I wish I’d known that then, but… it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“He’s a perfect example of why mages need to be kept under close watch. Something as small as a fragile ego could mean death,” Cullen said. “You even admit he might have failed, yet you still stand by your decision? Are you just being stubborn?”

“I stand by my decision because I conscripted Jowan into the Grey Wardens and he has dedicated what remains of his life to redeeming himself,” Serenity said. “He doesn’t need blood magic to be a better mage. He knows that now. Just because he’s capable of it doesn’t mean he’ll abuse that power.” 

“How many times have I heard this from blood mages? They all think they are immune to the charms of demons.”

“Not all blood mages consort with demons,” Serenity argued. "Those that do foolishly think they're in control until they're overwhelmed. But mages who want nothing from demons are less likely to be possessed. If they can't tempt you, they have to deceive you. Jowan would not have risked becoming an abomination. That is one thing worse than being made Tranquil.”

He studied her face, his heart racing as heat rose through his skin with a rush of adrenaline. Why was she defending blood magic? How did she know so much about consorting with demons? 

_Not by practice,_ he assured himself and sighed, recalling the stacks of books at her table in the library any time he saw her. She was careful, even apprehensive about communicating with benevolent spirits. She probably knew more about it than he did, though he loathed to admit it. He knew what blood mages were capable of, but he couldn’t begin to explain _how_ or why.

“You know a lot about this. More than the average mage,” Cullen said.

“I would say I have as much experience dealing with blood mages, demons, and abominations as your most seasoned templars,” she said. “But as a mage, it is my responsibility to understand the dangers of blood magic and the Fade.”

“I’m afraid you have a better grasp on the concept than most,” Cullen said ruefully. “I know mages are warned against demons, but how many of them listen? So many are overtaken, either by temptation or trickery because they don’t think it can happen to them.”

“That is why we have the Harrowing,” Serenity answered. “Do you know what the rite entails?”

“The templars in attendance of a Harrowing aren’t told everything it involves, but it only takes attending one to figure it out. The mage must resist the temptation of demons,” Cullen answered. “I know that it is done without warning or preparation so the apprentice is always on guard, a lesson meant to condition and safeguard them even after the test is over.”

“After I underwent the rite, I wasn’t sure I agreed with the test,” she said. “The Circle purposefully summons a demon to the Circle for the apprentice to face. Some might think it is a test of their magic ability, like Jowan did, but it is a test of will. Your spellcasting can be lackluster and you could still win—because in the Fade, you are what you will. It proves a mage can see through a demon’s deceit. I understand now why the test is necessary.”

“If you weren’t a mage, you probably would have made a great templar,” Cullen said quietly. “If you weren’t prone to releasing blood mages, that is.”

“And I wondered why other mages don’t like me,” she said and smiled at him. “I believe in redemption. Maker knows I’ve done everything I can to earn mine.”

Cullen looked away from her then, noticing how her gaze bore into him with so much intensity. She was so different from when he’d known her before her conscription. But at her core, she was the very same. Strong-willed and exceedingly compassionate.

Like him, she had her naivete and innocence stripped from her through violence. She didn’t look it, but she was a soldier. She had been to war, he reminded himself. It was easy to forget when she smiled at him like that. 

“You’re the Commander of the Grey Wardens now, aren’t you?” he asked gently. 

He had wondered if, after the blight was ended, she would return to the Circle. She had outwitted a sloth demon that took the lives of at least a dozen and she had overpowered Pride. But she was not invulnerable. She was still dangerous. 

_Mages belong in the Circle. They cannot be given unchecked freedom to do as they please._

Yet, without that freedom, Serenity would not have saved Ferelden. The blight happened all around them and never penetrated the tower's walls. She couldn't have accomplished all she did from within the Circle. If she was promoted to Commander of the Grey Wardens as he thought she deserved to be, he wouldn't undermine her authority or deign to suggest she relinquish her position just because she was a mage. 

It went against what he was taught as a templar, but she was unlike any other person he had ever met. 

“I am,” she answered, feeling a familiar flutter in her stomach at the softness in his voice. “I’ve had to do terrible things in the line of duty. I’ve had to make hard choices. Choosing Jowan was only the first of many. I am sure I’ve made mistakes. But most of the time, I think there is no clear right or wrong. It’s a ripple in the water. I valued Jowan’s life and his freedom, but it came at a cost.”

“Ser Irminric, you mean? The templar slain by him?” Cullen asked, hoping saying his name would make him more real. She had to know that a good man lost his life to the boy she called her brother. 

“You don’t know…?” Serenity asked. “Ser Irminric was alive when I found him in Fort Drakon. Jowan was coerced into helping Loghain in a plot against Arl Eamon in exchange for his protection.”

_She met him? He was alive?_

Cullen realized he was holding his breath and exhaled as he ran his hand over his hair. “All this time, I thought… Are you saying Jowan hasn’t killed anybody?” 

“He didn’t kill the templars that pursued him,” Serenity said. “But his actions still had dire consequences. He was hired to mentor an apostate child—"

“A child?” he asked, appalled. “He hadn’t even completed his training and he attempted to mentor a child? What were the consequences of this?”

“The boy discovered his books and made a deal with a demon,” she said, feeling her chest tighten and her throat dry. She could still see Connor’s face as she provoked the desire demon to the surface. She could still hear Isolde’s desperate cries, begging her not to kill her baby. He was just a little boy.

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen muttered. “This is why the Circles are needed and apostates need to be kept under close watch. What became of the child?”

“The child became an abomination... and I killed it.”

“You could kill a child but not the blood mage responsible for its possession?”

“It was not a child. It was an abomination,” she answered, forcing the words out of her mouth. She knelt to pray at the altar, hoping he wouldn’t notice her lips tremble. 

Cullen sighed, regretful of how hard he was on her when she had been faced with such a difficult task. It was hard enough having to take the life of an apprentice that failed their Harrowing. But a child…? He had seen the children taken over by the demons in the apprentices’ quarters during the blood mages’ rebellion. He had had to raise his sword against them too. It was the worst guilt, the heaviest burden to bear knowing they were helpless and could not be saved. But she was right. They weren't children anymore after the demons took over them. He understood the anguish she felt having to strike one down.

“Serenity, I—”

“Knight-Captain!” The templar from outside stopped at the top of the stairs and stood at attention. “Knight-Commander Meredith has a matter that requires your attention, ser.”

“Tell her I am on my way,” Cullen answered.

“What is that man’s name?” Serenity asked, standing up as he left. 

“That is Beau, a templar-recruit.”

“A recruit. I see.”

“He still has a lot to learn,” Cullen said.

“Like basic manners?” Serenity asked.

“Resist whatever inclination you have to speak to him. This is not Kinloch Hold,” Cullen said, presuming she still had the same tendencies.

“You’re starting to sound like Greagoir,” Serenity said, crossing her arms. “’Don’t tease my templars, apprentice.’”

Cullen couldn’t help the smile that pulled on his lips, absolutely certain Greagoir had never spoken those _exact_ words. But he remembered where they were. She was a Grey Warden, but she still looked the part of a mage. Or, maybe he just thought so because he knew her secret. She was dressed in plain clothes, but they reminded him of her apprentice robes. 

“Kirkwall is no place for you, Serenity. You should board the next ship to Ferelden.”

“I’ll go back when I am ready to,” she said defiantly.

“Just so long as you do.”

He meant to sound kinder. But as he left, he thought it was better that he wasn’t. He couldn’t encourage her to come back and talk to him again. She was a distraction. He just had to keep telling himself that. 

'We cannot afford distractions,' Meredith would say.

* * *

  
Serenity watched Cullen leave and thought if he still had any feelings for her, he hid them well. She was relieved to see him smile, even if for only a moment. She wondered what impact her words had made on him, if they had any at all. She intended to find out what it was he was about to say before he was interrupted.

She still caught glimpses of the man she once knew. There had been moments of hostility and judgment, but even so, she found herself withholding nothing from him. 

No. Not nothing. 

She had confessed to him her deepest shame, but she hadn’t been completely honest about it. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to be so forthcoming, but she still wanted to tell him everything and hear his thoughts, even if they were disapproving. She should have told him the truth. 

_It was not a child. It was an abomination._

How could she say that? 

She lied. It was a blatant lie. 

_He was just a little boy._

She knew that, although Connor was an abomination, he was still a passenger in his own body. He hadn’t traded places with the demon in the Fade. He shared it and all it felt and saw and did.

Could she kill Anders in the same way if it came down to it? Would she have to coax Justice to the surface, knowing that even then Anders would see and hear and feel it all? Or could she find another way? 

She would have to find another way. She regretted not saving Connor. She wouldn’t fail Anders too.


	3. Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity returns to the Chantry in the hopes of finding Cullen there again. There is some waiting involved, however, and she seems a templar-recruit who can't leave his post.

Serenity had no intention of returning to Ferelden right away. She had only just set foot in Kirkwall and wanted to learn something about the place. Did Cullen call it home since he transferred? Or did he miss Ferelden? She knew he could never go back to Kinloch Hold, but there were other places templars were stationed—like the chantry in Denerim.

She wondered if Cullen was still angry with her or if he was just… disappointed. She had hoped when they met again that he might look upon her with some softness in his eyes as he used to, but she saw something else there and she wasn’t sure what it was. Resentment, maybe. Or apprehension. But he had taken the time to speak with her and, more importantly, he had taken the time to listen. 

_You should board the next ship to Ferelden._

She tried not to let his words hurt her. He hadn’t said them with malice, but… he wanted her to leave him alone. It was entirely selfish for her to stay. He would have to tell her again—and she knew it would hurt even more. 

Seeing him again did nothing to bring her closure. Instead it felt like tightly sewn threads that had held the wound in her heart closed were coming undone. If she left without seeing him again, it would hurt as much as it did the last time. He might never want to see her again, but she couldn’t leave him with so much left unsaid. 

She didn’t think she held any influence over his feelings as a mage, but she had to try to convince him to have more compassion—like he used to. She had met templars that hated mages and wanted nothing more than to lock them away or see them made Tranquil. She had also met templars who broke the Chantry’s rules and helped apostates attain freedom. She was sure Cullen would never be the latter, but she only wanted to prevent him from becoming the former. She wanted him to remain the kind templar he once was, dutiful but fair. She wanted him to see mages as people. She could still sense that potential for kindness in him, even now, but she knew it was clouded over by distrust.

* * *

  


Serenity spent the several days walking the city streets and browsing wares at the market stalls, but she always stopped by the chantry at the same time and stayed for an hour or so. She did believe in the Maker, but she was not so devout that she wanted to spend as much time there as the clerics did. She was sure that grumpy templar guarding the building thought she was a fanatic.

_What was his name? Beau?_

Each time she passed him on her way in, he grunted at her disdainfully. She found it funny that he put so much energy into acknowledging her presence when he would have been better off ignoring her. His discomfort just made her want to pester him more. 

On the fourth day, when he grumbled something under his breath, Serenity stopped and took a step back to stand in front of him. “Are you all right?” she asked. 

“Can't you visit the Chantry earlier in the day or not at all?” he asked, making his annoyance apparent. 

“Oh, good, you can speak. I was afraid you were having a stroke.”

“W-what? You speak nonsense!”

“Well, I couldn’t hear you. You have to speak louder when you cover your face with that helmet. It sounded like you said, ‘hurm murm murm helpme,’” she teased, trying to make her voice a little gruffer as she mocked him. 

“Why do you insist—” he started and scoffed. “How did you rope me into talking with you? Leave at once. Go pray or whatever it is you do in there.” 

“I believe it was you who spoke to me first. Unless you were speaking to… somebody else?” she asked and looked around. “Oh. Nobody else around. Except that old man over there, but he’s not within earshot.” 

“I wasn't speaking to you. I was just expressing my frustrations at having to endure your presence once more.”

“Oh, I see. You have issues with personal space,” she said and took a step back… and then another. She slowly moved farther back, gauging his reaction. 

“…Keep going.” 

She kept walking backwards and asked, “Here?” When he raised a hand to wave her back more, she kept walking and laughed when she was far enough away that she wouldn’t hear him at all if he tried to speak without yelling. She started walking back towards him, waiting for his reaction. 

He watched her close the distance and sighed when she got within ten feet of him. And then she stopped. “What are you doing?”

“That’s it,” she said and dug through her pack for a spirit shard. It was a soft enough mineral that it wouldn’t shatter or carve into the ground where she marked, instead acting as a hard chalk. She drew a line in front of him and, deciding that was insufficient, dragged the spirit shard in a circle around him. 

“What are you doing? You can’t do that! You’re defiling Chantry grounds!” 

“Am I? It will wash away with the next rain,” she said. “Or it could be swept away with a broom.” 

“You knife-ears are crazy and have no respect for our city,” he said. “What even is this? Some knife-ear ritual? Are you trying to trap me in a circle like I’m some kind of cat?” 

“Is that how cats work?” she asked. When someone started walking past them and stepped on the line of spirit dust, she held her hands up and said, “Stay back! He’s contagious.” 

“Huh?” the man looked at her, nonplussed, and then at the templar and gave him a wider berth. 

“Contagious!? No—no, I am not! I wouldn’t be on duty if I were sick,” Beau tried to explain, watching as the man hurried up the steps. He glowered at Serenity from behind the slat in his helmet. “I’ve had about enough of you!” 

“Already?” she asked disappointedly. “It hasn’t even been an hour yet.” 

“You intend to do this for an hour? I knew knife-ears were sadistic.”

She laughed, “Fine. I will go inside for a little while. But I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll observe your personal space if the line is still there.” 

* * *

  


When Serenity returned to the Hanged Man, Mabari-Cullen wasn’t in her room. She found him instead on Varric’s floor, listening to the dwarf read aloud. 

“You might be his favorite person,” she said, resting her shoulder against his door frame. 

Varric chuckled, “He’s a harsh critic though. I think he wants more mabari in my story.” 

Mabari-Cullen barked, lifting his head. 

“Well, then, clearly you need to write more mabari into your story,” Serenity smiled. “He hasn’t been a problem, I hope?” 

“Not at all,” Varric answered. “Any luck finding your friend?” 

“Yes,” Serenity answered. “I think I may be here for a while though.” 

“If you think you’ll need coin, I can always find you a job,” Varric offered. “Might give the pup something to chew on too.” 

“Has he destroyed more furniture?” she asked, looking around. 

“No,” Varric laughed. “But a war hound like him? I bet he’s itching for a fight.” 

Mabari-Cullen’s tail wagged, scraping across the floor. 

“You are a vicious war hound, yes, you are,” Serenity cooed as she knelt to scratch him under his chin. She smiled when his tail thumped against the floor. “I’ll keep your offer in mind, Varric. For now, I’m going to turn in.” 

  
When Serenity returned to the Chantry the next day, she took Mabari-Cullen with her and stopped by the grocer on her way to pick up a loaf of sweet bread. She stopped in front of Beau and heard him heave a sigh beneath his helmet. She looked at the ground to see the lines had been cleared away. 

“Oh, I guess I entered the circle, didn’t I?” she asked. 

“What is it that you want? You heard the Knight-Captain. ’All have the right to pray here,’” he said mockingly. “So, why don’t you go in and pray? Recite the entire Chant of Light. That’s what you do in there, isn’t it? You spend enough time to do it twice.” 

“Maker, no,” Serenity scoffed. “I just walk around and talk to the chantry sisters. They have the best gossip. You should hear what they say about you.” 

Beau was quiet, but he fidgeted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure if she was serious, but his curiosity won out. “…What do they say about me?” 

“That you’re gullible,” Serenity answered, failing to stifle a laugh. She could have lied, but she would have felt bad for dragging it out any further. 

“You are quite possibly the worst elf I have ever met,” he growled. “Or maybe you're good at it because elves seem to be pretty good at being horrible.”

“You’re angry… I’m sorry,” she said, still smiling. “It was mean for me to trick you like that. It was kind of funny though, wasn’t it? Just a little bit?” 

“No. You’re a sadist. Leave me alone.” 

“But don’t you get bored standing guard here all day?” she asked, looking around. He did see a lot of foot traffic, but the templars, standing still as statues, went largely ignored. 

“This is my assigned duty, and it’s none of your business,” he answered flatly. 

“If I were a human, would you still be so rude?” 

“If you were a suspicious human… maybe.”

“It’s my dog, isn’t it?” she asked, casting him a downward glance. “He makes me suspicious.”

Mabari-Cullen hung his head in mock shame, tail between his legs, as he whimpered dramatically. 

“It’s those pointy ears of yours, but the mabari doesn’t help any.”

Had Serenity been a Circle mage under Beau's watch, she would have avoided him after the first time he called her a knife-ear. She might have even presumed him to be violent. Would he be so hateful and mistrusting of his charges after he took his vows? Or would the Chantry instill enough discipline in him that he could overlook the elf mages' pointy ears? Could he be a good templar? 

“You’ve had trouble with elves in the past. I would care to hear your story if you would share it,” she said. She’d met many bigots, but there was usually a reason for every behavior. 

“My mother and father were murdered by your people when I was a child. I was taken in by the Chantry and joined the order. So, forgive me if I'm not all that pleased to see _your_ kind outside of the alienage.”

“I am sorry that you lost your family to senseless violence,” she said. She did not mean to lecture him about prejudices or argue that it was not, in fact, ‘her people’ that killed his family, but she was curious about whether he considered his responsibilities as a templar. “Do you intend to intimidate the elven apprentices in your care after you take your vows? Do you think it would be justified?” 

“How I treat the mages is different from how I treat an elf who likes to see how far she can push her luck with me.”

Serenity knew he was no threat. He didn’t know she knew he was still only a templar-recruit. She guessed she could push her luck quite far if she wanted to, but she didn’t really mean to torment the young man. She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, knowing he would refuse her offer if he was being watched. “Would you like some sweet bread?" she asked. "It’s freshly baked, so it’s still warm and moist. I just picked it up.”

“What?” he asked, puzzled. “Why would you want to share something with me… unless… did you poison it?”

“No!” she laughed, opening her pack, and removed the loaf. She tore and ate a piece then offered a chunk to her dog. 

Mabari-Cullen swallowed the piece whole and licked his lips, then stumbled around and fake heaved like he was sick. 

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Serenity could hardly believe how devious her hound had become. “He was joking. Sometimes they’re too smart for their own good,” she said and she held out the loaf to Beau. “Please, have some.” 

He hesitated and looked around before tearing a piece from it. He lifted his helmet just enough to get the bread into his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to say, considering he expected her to call him a ‘shem’. 

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome. Will you tell me your name?” she asked. She already knew the answer, but she would rather coax it out of the man himself. 

“I guess it would be rude of me not to give you my name after you shared your sweet bread with me,” he murmured. “It’s Beau.” 

“I’m Serenity,” she answered. “I’ll leave you to your duty now. But my mabari will keep you company.”


	4. Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity speaks with Cullen about trust between templars and mages.

_Why is she still here…?_

Cullen climbed the stairs to the chantry, steadying his breathing as he got closer to the double doors. Why was he so nervous? 

She had allowed him to berate her and graciously accepted his criticisms, only defending herself when he was speaking under mistaken assumptions. He was nervous, he realized, because he owed her an apology and he expected she hadn’t forgotten why. 

‘There is nothing wrong with liking someone.’

She had sounded so soft and looked so nervous when she said it, suggesting his ill-advised infatuation might not have been one-sided. But he had rebuffed her. He told her she wasn't _someone_ and suggested she wasn't worthy because she wasn't a _person_ but a mage. He had been angry, sleep deprived, hurt, and _scared._ But how could she forgive that?

When he walked into the chantry, he saw her standing beside one of the statues of a disciple, gazing up at the smoking incense over her head. He gestured toward the altar upstairs when she looked at him and climbed the steps to meet her at the foot of Andraste. 

“I saw your mabari outside,” he said quietly enough so the Grand Cleric wouldn’t hear. “I need you to stop seeking me out. People are going to get suspicious and begin asking me questions about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “I don't mean to put you in an awkward position. But I needed to see you again. I don't feel we parted on good terms... last week or the last time we spoke at the tower.”

How could she still be so kind? She was apologizing to him when it was he that owed her the apology. He knew she wouldn’t forget the cruel things he said or the damnable way he said them, but he would have thought she would forget _him._

She had never left his mind, but it was hardly the same. He was confined to the Circle, face to face with mages every day. She was free. She didn’t have to think about the Circle or see templars anymore. There were no reminders for her. He would have thought she would have dismissed him and his vitriol as a part of her past life. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her being there now, waiting for him. 

“I wasn’t fair to you,” he said, willing himself to meet her eyes. “I should not have placed so much blame on you for everything that's happened. It was unworthy of me. I apologize.”

“You have been kind to me, Cullen. Kinder than most.”

“And that is my weakness,” he said, averting his gaze to look upon the statue of Andraste. “You made me weak, Serenity. Templars who feel sympathy and show kindness to mages only end up dead or losing their way. If we drop our guard around mages, it makes it that much easier for evil to slip through.” 

_'You aren't wrong to be suspicious. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise,'_ Meredith had said. _'We cannot allow ourselves to see them as people. They live, they are provided for. Those are the only kindnesses they can be afforded. Even the most well-intentioned spirit healers are fooled by demons. Even the most obedient apprentices fail their Harrowings. We must stand vigilant, we must stand strong.'_

He looked at Serenity then, his eyes piercing her like cold steel, and said, “That is why mages and templars can never be friends.”

The atrocity at Kinloch Hold had opened his eyes to evils he didn’t know were there before. But he could see more clearly now. The Gallows didn’t allow the mages the same freedoms and opportunities to act in secret. They prevented blood mages from spreading their influence and gaining a foothold in the Circle. They took away their power before they could hurt anybody with it—most of the time. Sometimes they were still too late. But it would never be like it was with Uldred. Not here. 

“You’re wrong,” Serenity said, desperate to change his mind. But she couldn’t find the words she needed to convince him. 

“I have seen too many instances that show why we can never fully trust one another,” he said ruefully. 

“Is… is that really all I am to you, then?” she asked as heat rose to her cheeks and burned the tips of her ears. “Just another mage, another dangerous thing to be feared? Is it your duty to oppose all that I am?”

Cullen felt like his chest was being crushed by the restrained emotion in her voice. He had been harsh with her after she had denied his advisement for the rite of annulment, and she had taken his words and put them in her pocket. But now, he felt the weight of them as they struck her, and he knew he hurt her.

* * *

  
_How could I be so stupid?_

_I was just a foolish fancy, nothing more. Less than even that now. All this time, I thought… maybe…_

“I’m…” Serenity murmured and looked away, trying to steady the shaking in her voice. “I’m a fool. To think things could be different. I shouldn’t have come here… and bothered you. I…”

After everything she’d accomplished, everything she’d learned, and all of the people she’d met and places she’d been, she forgot how it felt to be so small and insignificant. She hadn’t admitted it to herself, but she had hoped maybe, being free of the Circle, he could look upon her differently.

Serenity didn’t want him to see her cry. It was humiliating enough to have come so far to see him, only to be made to feel so small. She knew it would hurt to say the words and mean them, but she couldn’t be selfish anymore. 

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

He caught her arm, firmly but gently. “Wait—”

She looked down at his hand on her arm as he quickly withdrew it. “You’ve never…” she mumbled tremulously. He had never touched her before, and it took her until that moment to realize it.

“I, ah…” he stammered. “I don’t think you’re a fool, Serenity. Nor could I ever see you as ‘just another mage.’ But that doesn’t change the dangers we face daily here.”

She felt her heart race and took a breath to gather her wits. He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t tell her to board a ship. He stopped her. 

  
_Breathe._

  
“I lived in the Circle since I was a child, surrounded by templars,” she said, keeping her gaze settled on his hand because she didn’t want him to see the tears that welled up in her eyes. “I saw them… you, every day. We all knew the dangers of magic. I knew what your duties were. But because of your kindness, I didn’t hate you or the other templars. I respected you. I didn’t see you as a prison guard but as a protector.”

“I am…" he caught himself and shook his head, "I was your protector. As well as of these other mages under my watch.”

“I haven’t met an apostate that agrees with me,” Serenity said sullenly. “They accuse me of being indoctrinated by the Chantry, or they tell me their own sad experiences with your order to try to persuade me to hate and fear. There are many cruel and sadistic templars out there that take pleasure in hurting mages. Our own Circle tower housed some of them.”

“I am aware of that,” Cullen answered quietly. “That further shows that the distrust between mage and templar is too deep to take any chances.”

“You would rather drive the wedge deeper than nurture our relationships?” she asked, daring to look up at him.

“I… no, that’s not what I meant.”

“I accepted my place in the Circle,” Serenity said, fumbling with the icicle ring around her finger nervously. “Like everyone else, I was curious about the outside world and sometimes I felt depressed. But I was clothed, fed, and given a home. I would not have felt that way were you not kind to me.”

She thought about Jowan and Anders, whose experiences differed so much from her own. She was one of the lucky ones. She didn’t realize until after she left just how lucky she was. 

“How many mages have been beaten over the head with the idea that they are evil, even before they've done anything wrong?” she asked. “How many have believed it so much that they kill themselves because they think the world would be safer without them in it? Can you really tell a child that comes into magic that they're being taken away from their family for being bad?”

Before he could answer, Serenity continued, her words running together faster with desperation, “Please, don’t think me naïve. I know that even if every templar was kind and made their charges feel safe, there would still be those that sought freedom and normalcy. But does that make cruelty and instilling fear necessary? It only encourages mages to try to break free. When you are treated like less than a person, you begin to believe it, and you have to escape and try to feel whole again.”

She didn’t know how much she had to say until the words kept pouring out of her mouth. “I understand your anxiety over maleficarum, after everything you’ve witnessed and all of the pains you’ve endured. I know I probably can’t even imagine the things you’ve seen and I won’t pretend I could. But those responsible are dead. You can’t blame every mage for the actions of a few. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to become emotionally attached to the mages in the event that you have to kill them, especially if they’re innocent. But that doesn’t mean you should treat them as if they’re guilty.”

_Oh, Maker. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. I must sound stark raving mad rambling like this. He might just take back what he said about not thinking me a fool._

He had to know that he’d impacted the lives of many in a positive way and that it truly mattered. She just wanted him to treat mages with the same kindness he’d shown her. She wanted him to see mages as people. She wanted him to see _her._

* * *

  
_Maker’s breath._

She was so impassioned, so desperate for him to hear her. Their perspectives came from opposite sides of the same coin. How could he dismiss her wisdom as naivety when she knew better than most what could happen? 

She hadn't been there for the start of it. She didn't hear their screams. She didn't hear them beg him to protect them and stop the onslaught or plead for mercy with a quick death. She didn't see them burned alive or bled to death as their skin was flayed. 

But she had seen the aftermath. She saw the bodies. She saw his cage. She faced the demons. She eradicated the tower of its infection. She knew him more intimately than anyone because she caught a glimpse of the horrors he had endured. She knew him better than Greagoir or Meredith or Mia. 

He could never tell Mia. He could never let her know her bright eyed little brother chasing his dreams found himself trapped in a nightmare. It wasn't what he thought it would be. He couldn't have imagined the scope of magic and how indescribably terrible it could be. 

But Serenity knew. 

The Commander of the Grey Wardens. She earned that position through hard won experience. She didn't reside in a Circle any longer, but she was there. 

How could he not listen?

Cullen waited, to be sure she was finished, and admitted, “It's hard not to see a possible Uldred in every mage. He tutored apprentices. He was respected in the Circle by the other enchanters. He'd helped Greagoir root out young blood mages. We were too blind to see that he had been their mentor from the beginning because he was so cooperative. He manipulated the Knight-Commander and the First-Enchanter and made fools of us all.”

“If we could only learn from one another,” Serenity said. “I believe the Circle is necessary, but it is not without its flaws. We cannot begin thinking of making reforms if we’re enemies.”

“You’re not my enemy, Serenity,” Cullen said softly. 

“We need you,” she said, meeting his eyes. “If more mages were treated as I was, I believe fewer would try to rebel. I know the libertarians are pushing for the Circles to govern themselves without the arm of the Chantry, but I don’t agree with them. The templars serve a needed purpose, but they mustn’t abuse it."

"You don't know what it's like," Cullen said quietly. "They hide so we don't know who they are. Any one of them could be maleficarum, scheming as Uldred did. You never would have suspected Jowan of being a blood mage. Even apprentices like him are plotting against us. How can I trust any of them?"

"You speak of trust as something unattainable," Serenity lamented. "If you think I would ever betray you somehow, I promise you I never would.”

“No, I... I know you wouldn’t,” he said hesitantly. “You saved my life, Serenity, and the lives of many others when I was ready to assume to worst.”

“I was just like them, living in the tower," she reminded him. "Trust is something that everybody must earn, whether they’re a mage or not. Just give them a chance."

It wasn't as simple or as easy as she seemed to think. He couldn't speak with them the way he did her nor could he look at them the same way. He wasn't sure what she expected of him.

He sighed, “What would you have me do?”

“All I ask if that you not treat every mage as if they are maleficarum. Don't encourage the distrustful, hateful frame of mind that you've adopted,” she answered. "You can teach them. You can be firm and show restraint. You can show the mages they're safe where they are."

"The Gallows is not like the Circle in Ferelden," Cullen said. He couldn’t tell her all the ways it was different. He thought it was better in some ways, though he knew the mages would disagree. There was order, structure, discipline. But there was also fear. 

If he were to undermine his Knight-Commander or challenge her stance on prevention and punishment, she would question his fitness for duty. He had dedicated himself to her cause. There was no room for compassion in the Gallows. Or, so he had thought. 

After what happened at Kinloch Hold, Cullen had looked at Serenity's compassion as a weakness, when before it had been one of the qualities that won his heart. But now, hearing her speak, he felt moved again and conflicted by her passion. He respected her point of view. She wasn't _just a mage._ She was always more.

She still respected the necessity of the templars. He wasn’t sure he had expected that from her, considering the current climate in the College of Magi. Circles were calling for autonomy—not the majority but enough for the Knight-Vigilant to take notice and for Knight-Commander Meredith to tighten her grip on the mages of Kirkwall.

He conceded, “It will take time, but I will try. The Knight-Commander has seen firsthand what terrible things mages are capable of, just as I have."

His experience, perspective, and resolute disposition were the reasons he had been promoted to Knight-Captain. Being commended on his point of view and feeling his voice was heard by his Knight-Commander served to reinforce that he was right, as much as he hated that he was. He would not be able to convince her otherwise. He still needed to convince himself. But what Serenity asked of him didn't seem like too much. It was a small request, but it was a heavy one. 

“One man can make a difference,” Serenity assured him. “And you have the potential to make a great Knight-Commander one day. I have always seen that in you.”

_Still?_ She would still think that of him, even after all he's said and done? 

Meredith had told him the same thing but for different reasons. His distrust of mages and cold indifference to them were the qualities she looked for in her officers. But those qualities directly opposed who he used to be, who Serenity wanted him to be. The way she looked at him now reminded him of how he used to feel. 

He cleared his throat, "I, ah... I hope you're right."

“Whether you admit it or not... I think we are friends, Knight-Captain."

“You may be right,” he answered softly. “But you still shouldn't be here. I have too many mages in Kirkwall to worry about as it is.”

“You needn’t worry about me.”

“But I do. If not what you may do to someone, what someone may do to you,” he said. He realized it might sound absurd to fret over someone like her—the Hero of Ferelden, the slayer of the Archdemon and countless other monsters. But Kirkwall was still a dangerous place for a mage, a woman, an elf. Especially in Lowtown. 

"Well, I’m not going anywhere for a while. I’m not exactly in a hurry to board another ship,” she said. “I'm sending a missive to Ferelden on my whereabouts so they know where to contact me when I am needed. I won’t distract you from your duties or do anything to jeopardize your position.” “I feel I must warn you to be careful in Kirkwall. The Gallows are much stricter than the Circle in Ferelden and there are templars stationed all over the city," he said, hoping she would understand the gravity of his words. "Where are you staying?”

“The Hanged Man. I don't think the bloodstains on the floor are just for show,” she said and smiled.

He groaned at the mention of the Hanged Man. “I suggest you relocate.”

“I haven't lived in an alienage since I was too young to remember, but I suppose I could go there to avoid drawing attention to myself,” she said, none too thrilled about the idea.

“And refrain from lighting anyone on fire.”

“Yes, that would give me away,” she cracked a smile and reminded him, “but I don’t know any fire spells.”

“Ah… right, I forgot you skipped all the fire lessons they had to offer in the Circle,” he said quietly. 

“I always went with what came naturally to me. A shame I never learned a proper healing spell. If you're ever wounded, I'm afraid I can only supply you with a bandage and a poultice.”

He chuckled at that, “I’d appreciate it.”

“I may still drop by the chantry from time to time, but if you wish to call on me, look for me in the alienage,” she said. 

_Call on her? I couldn’t. I…_

Serenity teased, “You’re not going to run away now, are you?”

He facepalmed, hoping to hide the color that rushed to his face with the embarrassment at the thought of the morning after her Harrowing. He can’t remember a moment more mortifying. “Maker’s breath… you haven’t forgotten anything, have you?”

She stifled a laugh and said, “Not a thing. My mind is a steel trap.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, reminded of how she used to take pleasure in making him blush. It was refreshing to see she hadn’t lost her playful nature after the war. 

As much as he enjoyed her company and realized how much he missed the sound of her laughter, he knew he had to refrain from getting any closer to her than he already had. He couldn’t bear to feel how he felt before.

Serenity heard footsteps approaching and knelt down before the altar of Andraste with her hands clasped together to look inconspicuous. The templar passed them to speak with the Grand Cleric, but Cullen knelt beside her.

“I want to hear your prayer,” he said.

She was quiet for a moment and closed her eyes.

“Maker, hear my cry;

Guide me through the blackest nights, steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked, make me to rest in the warmest places.

See me kneel; know my heart, judge me whole, find me well within Your grace.

Touch me with fire that I may be cleansed, tell me I have sung to Your approval.

Though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light, I shall weather the storm, I shall endure.

What you have created, no one can tear asunder. May the chant reach the Maker’s ears and tell him of our contrition. So let it be.”

Cullen had expected her to recite the Canticle of Benedictions, perhaps, but he liked the way she combined verses from the Chant of Light to speak from her heart. 

“So let it be,” he repeated and rose to his feet. “I’ve never heard the chant quite like that.”

“Was it bad?” she asked, rising to her feet and brushing the dust off her knees.

“Quite the opposite.”

“You have been in my thoughts and prayers quite often, you know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Enough that you came all the way out to Kirkwall to see me?” he asked, recalling that she wasn't there on official Warden business. That wasn't really why she came to the Free Marches though, was it? 

“Yes,” she confessed. “I would have followed you all the way to the Anderfels if that’s where they told me you went.”

_Andraste preserve me._

He felt that familiar pull on his heart and tried to bury it as heat rose through his skin. He might have thought she was teasing him, knowing how deeply he embarrassed himself by confessing his feelings before. It was an infatuation, nothing more. That was what he told himself. That was what his Knight-Commander called it. It was unhealthy and unnatural. It was wrong.

But he couldn't deny her beauty. The beauty of her words. Her mind and her heart. It was more than her smile and the pale blue irises of her eyes as she looked into his. Even now, she still took his breath away. 

It went against what he stood for. It went against his oath. But he wanted to protect her, to see that she remained safe in this dangerous place. 

“If I, ah... if I didn't think it would cause you trouble, I’d have someone I can trust watching over you,” he said.

“You could watch over me,” she said and smiled at the bashful way he avoided looking at her.

“I, ah…” he cleared his throat and found a spot on the statue of Andraste to focus on, all too aware of her eyes on him. “I have a lot of duties as Knight-Captain, and people would begin to talk if I were spending so much time with you. It... it would be for the best if I didn't.”

“I won't keep you from your duties. You know where to find me if you need me for anything,” she said. “I will see you again though, won’t I?”

“I… I don’t know,” he answered hesitantly. “I don’t cross the lake very often, sometimes to go to the market or to come here, but we have most of what we need in the templars’ quarters.”

“If you can’t leave, perhaps you could send me a letter,” she said and walked by him, placing her hand on his arm gently so he would look at her. “Goodbye, Cullen.”

He held his breath for the long moment in which she held his gaze. He shouldn't encourage her, he shouldn't give her any reason to stay. But she still found him, even when tried to ignore her. 

He still had the letter she wrote him. He received it back in Ferelden before his transfer to Greenfell. He allowed himself to read it only once but couldn't bring himself to dispose of it, even on his voyage across the Waking Sea. It still lay on the bottom of a drawer in his desk. 

“Serenity.”

“Yes?” she asked, turning on her heel to face him from the stairs.

“I… I would not have suggested an umbrella,” he said. “I would have suggested a hooded cloak you could use to wrap around your face. I imagine you would require use of both hands in the desert… and it gets cold at night.”

Serenity smiled, relieved he had read her letter and committed it to memory. “I will keep that in mind should I ever travel to the Anderfels.”

Cullen watched her leave. He felt cold standing alone at the foot of Andraste, even though he was bathed in the warmth of the red candles pooling melted wax over the side of the altar. Serenity was something to behold. It still surprised him that she cared enough to find him, that she had persisted even when he pushed her away. But it scared him too. 

It scared him how easily she could uncover feelings he'd told himself weren't genuine. He had inwardly denied his attraction to her, and, for a while, he had convinced himself that she wasn't his friend. He had repeated a hundred reasons why he shouldn't like her, let alone anything more. 

But when she stood in front of him and he could hear her voice, he couldn't lie to himself anymore. 

_There’s nothing wrong with liking someone._

* * *

  
It was hard to walk away from him. But she felt better about it. She said all that she could say, perhaps a little less eloquently than she would have liked. Her heart was still racing even as she stepped outside the chantry doors.

Cullen was still her friend. 

She was right about him. He still worried about her. He still cared. She wasn’t just a mage to be feared and opposed. He was still him. 

Mabari-Cullen sat beside Beau and craned his head back to look at Serenity as she descended the stairs. 

“Has he been good?” she asked.

“Yes, but he’s been staring at me… like he expects something from me,” Beau replied.

“I was talking to my dog.”

Mabari-Cullen barked happily.

“I’m kidding,” she chuckled. “I don’t know what he would expect from you.” She walked over to them and spoke in the tone of voice she had reserved for her mabari, “You’re a ferocious war hound, aren’t you, boy? You don’t want him to pet you, do you?”

Mabari-Cullen gave her a quiet ‘woof’ that she could have taken as either a yes or no. Sometimes translating was not so easy.

“Well, he’s been sitting here staring at me. I’ve been wondering though, just how does an elf come into possession of a mabari? I didn’t think your kind kept them.”

“He was sick, and I saved his life. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

Mabari-Cullen jumped back and forth excitedly, wagging his tail and barking happily. It was true—he really was her best friend, the only one that had stayed by her side through it all.

“Mabari are known for choosing masters with great character,” Beau said, looking at her curiously.

“Oh! I know what he’s been expecting from you.”

“And what would that be?” he asked, looking down at the dog.

She withheld a grin and crossed her arms, “An apology for threatening to ‘have him put down’ the other day.”

Mabari-Cullen barked again in agreement and looked up at the templar expectantly.

“Oh. Well, I’m… sorry. Would it make you feel better if I said it was an empty threat?” Beau asked.

Mabari-Cullen barked again, sated.

“He is a proud creature,” Serenity remarked.

“I can see that. If he had opposable thumbs, I bet he could sneak into my house and kill me in my sleep.”

Mabari-Cullen barked approvingly and wagged his tail.

“Now you’re stroking his ego,” Serenity said. “But he could probably dig his way in. You should see the holes he digs. It’s amazing he still has claws.”

Beau chuckled but caught himself and cleared his throat, remembering he was on duty. “Was there anything I could help you with?”

“I suppose you could point me toward the alienage.”

“The alienage is in the northeast section of Lowtown. Look for the big tree they have growing in the middle of it,” he answered. “Wait. How is it you don’t know where the alienage is when you’ve been here for days? Isn’t that where you came from?”

“I came from Ferelden,” she answered, noticing he lacked his usual hostility.

“Ferelden? That explains a lot actually. I didn’t know we were still getting new refugees,” he said. “Every Ferelden I’ve met has had a mouth on them.”

“Do Free Marchers not have mouths? However do you eat without one?”

“You're such a smartass. Are all knife-ears as bold as you are?”

“Not all of them, no. We’d better go see if the elves here will let us in,” Serenity said and patted Mabari-Cullen on his head. “Maybe if we tell them the big scary dog will chase away the shems, they’ll let us stay, huh, boy?”

“You’re awful,” Beau said, shaking his head. He was pretty sure she was joking again, but then, she might realize they would like that bargain.


	5. The Blooming Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity sees Cullen going into the Blooming Rose. He is investigating the disappearance of several templar-recruits, but she doesn't know that.

It was two weeks before Serenity received a letter from Cullen:

  
_Warden-Commander,_

_I have been meaning to write you, but every time I set the pen to paper, I find my mind wandering back to the troubling occurrences the order is facing as of late. Instances of escaped mages and evidence of blood magic have been increasing around Kirkwall. I will write you again when I am not distracted._

_Knight-Captain Rutherford_

  


“Rutherford?” she thought aloud and looked down at her mabari where he chewed on a cow femur. “I’ve always wondered what his last name is. Can you imagine if I had asked Greagoir? I can just see the look on his face. I would have been barred from entering the Circle ever again.” 

She took the tattered letter she kept tucked inside the cinch of her robe and wrote _Rutherford_ in fresh ink beneath the faded _Cullen_. 

“Just in case,” she said, gently waving the parchment through the air to dry it faster. She hoped he would never receive it, but she knew she wasn't invincible. An Antivan Crow could take her by surprise at any moment or a demon could find her disoriented in the Fade. There were a hundred different ways she could meet her demise before finding the right moment to tell him what she wrote in the letter. 

* * *

  
When Serenity returned to the chantry to visit Beau, she was surprised not to find him there. But she had arrived a bit later than her usual time on account of stopping to pick up meat buns from a vendor across town. It wasn’t quite nightfall yet, so she didn’t worry too much about being set upon by thugs in the alleyway. Most people had already retired to their homes and closed up their shopping stalls, however. She decided to investigate a mark on the map Varric had given her while she was in the area. If she couldn't bother the templar-recruit, she would at least continue exploring the nicer part of the city. As she approached the Blooming Rose in the red lantern district, it didn't take much to figure out what the place was, even without walking inside.

_Varric, you sly dog,_ she thought to herself. She wondered if he was popular at the establishment. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he was. But she could also see him being friends with the workers there, rather than a patron. Or perhaps both like she suspected Isabela was. 

Serenity was going to turn and leave until Cullen caught her eye. He’d walked right by her, but she was standing in the shade of a pillar so he hadn’t noticed her there. He was so handsome with the golden hue of the afternoon sun on his face and hair. She was so used to seeing him indoors, either in the Circle or the chantry. During their briefest encounter on the stairs outside, it had been overcast. She was about to follow after him when he stopped in front of the door to the Blooming Rose. 

_No, no, no! He wouldn't._

_Would he...?_

_Has he? Does he?_

_By the Maker, it doesn't matter. If that's what helps him cope, I should just let him be._

_Let him be, let him be..._

_Maker have mercy, I think I could crawl into a hole and die._

  


Cullen had begun an investigation into the disappearances of a handful of templar-recruits. After speaking to their peers, it led him to the brothel. He hesitated at the door, rubbing his brow nervously as he considered what he might say. They were only women, he thought. It wasn’t like they would descend upon him like a pack of jackals. He only needed to state reassurances and ask a few questions. Surely they would be cooperative when their clientele were involved. He sighed and opened the door, thinking it better to get it over with than to stand outside where he might be seen. He didn’t need any more rumors spreading about him. 

When he first transferred to Kirkwall, he hadn’t thought rumors would follow him from Ferelden, but it didn’t take long for him to realize the fault was his own. In seeking penance and comfort in the chantry, he had admitted things that should have remained unspoken. He remembered how talkative the brothers and sisters of the chantry were, just as full of boredom and gossip as the templars in the order and the mages in the Circle. Words spread quickly among them all. It was strange how interconnected they all were, even when the brothers and sisters had no direct contact with the mages. It made his work that much harder to know those under him and those in his charge whispered of his past and the feelings he had harbored for a mage. Why had he spoken those words out loud? 

As he stepped further inside, he glanced around the room, but he didn’t recognize any of the patrons there. He wasn’t sure who to approach first, but he didn’t have to initiate conversation. She approached him. 

“Well, this is quite the surprise,” Madam Lusine greeted him. “Although, not entirely unexpected.” 

“What? No. I, ah... I'm not here for... that,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “I am looking for some of my recruits. They've gone missing. They were regulars here, from what I understand.” 

“Missing recruits, you say? I haven’t the slightest clue about any recruits. Especially devout recruits like those of the Templar Order.” 

“This is a grave matter, madame,” he said, realizing his blunder. If she didn’t know he was the Knight-Captain before, she might have figured it out by his choice of words. “I have witnesses that said they’ve seen them here, recently in fact. I must speak with your workers.” 

“We try to observe the privacy of our customers. I doubt anyone will be able to tell if they've served a templar-recruit, but you are free to ask around,” she said and turned to face the workers in the room. “The Knight Captain would like to ask you all some questions. Please do entertain him,” she announced, giving them a look while her back was turned to Cullen, as if to let them know to keep their mouths shut. 

“Thank you,” Cullen said apprehensively. He approached an elven woman first, wondering why he had found her the most approachable, and immediately thought of Serenity. 

_Maker’s breath, get a hold of yourself,_ he thought. 

“My name is Cora, ser,” she smiled sweetly. “Can I interest you in a private conversation?” 

“I—no,” Cullen shook his head, “I only mean to ask if you’ve spoken to Wilmod, Leighton, or Keran—or know who has?” 

There were other recruits missing as well, but he couldn’t very well list them all, especially when not all of them were confirmed to have been customers of the Blooming Rose. He didn’t like letting on how many of his recruits were missing or how many of them liked to partake in the brothel’s services. 

“Mmm... I don't recall any of those names. But names are not really that important around here. Sorry, ser.” 

“Ah, I… see. Thank you,” he said and looked around the room, making eye contact with a red head. He took a deep breath as he crossed the room to speak to her and said, “Excuse me, miss. Have you spoken with any templar-recruits? Wilmod, perhaps? Or Leighton?” 

“I mean no disrespect, but I don't think a recruit can afford my services. Now, a Knight-Captain should have no problem with that,” Katriela said and held onto the top of his breastplate as she stood on her tip toes and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “Would you like to go someplace private and discuss this further?” 

Cullen pulled away from her and stumbled over a chair leg sticking out from under the table before straightening up. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but he felt terribly embarrassed already. He was getting nowhere with his investigation. He felt like an armored mouse surrounded by scantily clad cats. “N-no, I think I’m done here,” he said and excused himself, trying his best to leave with dignity. 

  


Outside the establishment, Serenity paced, counting the minutes. After one more, she would leave and go to her apartment to cry into Mabari-Cullen’s scruff and try to forget what she saw. She knew she couldn’t bring it up to him. Even if he did occasionally relieve his stress at the Blooming Rose, was that so bad? 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen uttered, facepalming as he closed the door behind him. 

_He’s still wearing his armor,_ Serenity thought. _He wasn't in there for very long._

“Had second thoughts?” she asked, judging by the blush that colored his face and the sigh of frustration that escaped him. 

Cullen felt his blood run cold at the sound of her voice and knew how it must have looked. “Serenity? What are you doing here?” 

“I was investigating the marker on this map,” she said, walking up to him. She poked his breastplate playfully, trying to hide the adrenaline rushing through her veins, the cold sweat that still clammed her palms, and the tendrils of fear that gripped her stomach in knots. “What are _you_ doing here?” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” he started, feeling his skin prickle with heat. He was sweating. 

“I really hope not.” 

“Here, come with me,” he said, leading her away from the door so they stood in a corner, away from prying eyes or ears. He didn’t really want to get into the particulars of his investigation with her, but she wasn’t a Circle mage anymore. She had helped the templars before, and... well, he didn't want her to have the wrong idea. “I went in there to investigate the disappearance of several templar-recruits. I was told all of them were repeat customers. But, ah… the ladies didn’t want to speak to me about them.” 

“Let me guess,” Serenity said. “They were more interested in you?” 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, “You just can’t resist the opportunity to tease me, can you?” 

“No, I really can’t,” she smiled and cleared her throat as she admitted, “I’m relieved they didn’t sink their claws into you.” 

Cullen felt his heart race at the thought of her standing out there, thinking the worst. “I’ve never… I wouldn’t, ah… come here if it weren’t important. Unfortunately, it was a dead end.” 

“You said only templar-recruits have gone missing? Has Beau reported for duty?” she asked. 

“Beau?” Cullen asked, surprised. “I saw him this morning. Why?” 

“He wasn’t at the chantry earlier.” 

Cullen crossed his arms and gave her a look reminiscent of the one Ser Hadley had given her every so often. “Have you been charming my recruit?” 

“’Charming’?” Serenity laughed. “I do like that much better than ‘harassing,’ which is what Ser Hadley and Knight-Commander Greagoir always accused me of.” 

“You haven’t frozen the joints on his armor, have you? That would be harassment,” he said. 

“A harmless prank,” she argued. “But no, I did not. I did listen to you when you said to be careful.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said and noticed the sun went down behind the buildings while he was inside. “I will see you home before I return to the Gallows. It’s dangerous out here at night, even for someone like you.” 

“Especially for someone like me,” she said. “Thugs around every corner, templars around the other.” 

He knew what she meant and didn’t take offense to it. She would most certainly be taken in for questioning if she was seen casting a spell, no matter the reason. “I meant to write you a longer letter,” he said, still apprehensive about continuing their communication. The more time he spent with her, the more she rekindled feelings he knew he wasn’t allowed to feel for her. 

“I was happy to receive one at all,” she said. “And now I know why you’re under so much stress.” 

“I had hoped to make some headway myself, but I can’t risk letting the situation devolve into something worse.” 

“You shouldn’t take it all upon yourself. Is there some way I can help?” 

“You’re kind to offer, Serenity, but it’s a templar investigation. You shouldn't get that close,” he said. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. She was trying to keep a low profile, especially if associating with her put him at risk. She lifted the bag she carried and offered him one of the meat buns she’d picked up to share with Beau. “Are you hungry?” 

“Starving,” he admitted. He had been so preoccupied with following his lead that he hadn’t stopped to eat. “Thank you.” 

“I know you’re busy, but you still need to eat and sleep. Have you been sleeping?” 

He never slept as well as he would have liked, but he’d adapted to the night terrors and insomnia. As best as he could, anyway. “I try to get a few hours in,” he said. 

“Have you tried taking a tincture to help you sleep?” 

“I would rather not,” he said. “Such things can carry a dependency.” 

She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, thinking of the lyrium and how awful it must have made him feel. “Have you thought about asking the First Enchanter to cast a sleep spell on you?” 

He looked at her, surprised at the suggestion and uneasy by it. “No. I can manage my sleep without the help of a mage,” he said, realizing after he said it how bitter it sounded. 

“I understand,” she said, “I just don’t want all this stress making you sick.” 

He was relieved she still responded with patience and compassion. “If I do fall ill, I’ll have more time to write you.” 

Serenity smiled and stopped at her door in the alienage. She was tempted to invite him in for more conversation, but she knew he needed to return to the Gallows. She only wanted to invite him in when she knew he would say yes. “Thank you for escorting me home, Cullen. As much as I look forward to receiving another letter, I would rather you write it in good health.” 

He looked around, noticing where they were for the first time. He hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings at all, having been focused only on her as they walked. “You’re welcome... Good night, Serenity.”


	6. The Traveling Scholar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity helps Cullen investigate the disappearance of a templar on the Wounded Coast.

Serenity had sent word to the Anderfels, Vigil’s Keep, and Soldier’s Peak about her decision to stay in the Free Marches for the time being. But she hadn’t expected to receive anything back so soon. Surprisingly, the letter came from Alistair in Denerim. Unlike what she usually received from him, this one was short and to the point:

  
_Morrigan was spotted in the Korcari wilds._  


  


Serenity knew she had to leave, but she wouldn’t do it without informing Cullen, and she wanted to tell him face to face.

Her heart sank as she approached the Gallows. The Circle of Magi was indeed a prison, not just metaphorically, and it made her stomach churn to look at. When the boat docked, she noticed the empty gibbets and stockades lining the road into the courtyard to greet anyone coming in. She walked through the barred gates where gigantic brass statues decorated the pillars and surrounded the entrance to the towers.

The last time she felt so ill at ease by a place was her first time entering the Deep Roads. And she had never seen so many bars before. Kirkwall was not kind to its mages; it was a wonder how any of them ever escaped. She stood at the entrance to the courtyard, reluctant to step further inside, afraid that the templars would sense her magic and throw her into a cell.

Cullen had tried to warn her. But from afar, the Circle looked less imposing than it did once she stood at its mouth. When a templar approached her, she broke out in a cold sweat.

“I can’t seem to go anywhere without running into you,” he said. “Where’s the dog?”

She was relieved to recognize Beau’s voice. “The man who brought me across didn’t want him in the boat, so he’s waiting for me at the Lowtown docks. Are you on your way to your post at the chantry now?”

“I’m not posted there anymore. My punishment is up.”

“What do you mean ‘punishment’?”

“For insubordination,” he shrugged. “What are you doing in the Gallows? Visiting someone?”

“I’m looking for Knight-Captain Cullen,” she answered. “But since you ask, can the mages take visitors if their families want to see them?”

“The mages aren’t allowed outside visitors. The Knight-Commander has them under close watch.”

“I didn’t think so,” Serenity said sullenly. Kinloch Hold hadn’t allowed visitors often, but requests were granted from time to time after the mages passed their Harrowing.

“It's for their own good… but sometimes I think some of the other templars go beyond what is necessary.” He sighed, “But thinking like that is what got me into trouble in the first place.”

Those were the bad templars, she thought. Like Ivan. But how many of them were there? Was that what Cullen meant when he said they were ‘stricter’ in the Gallows? 

“What did you do?” she asked. 

“I refused to obey an order,” he answered. “Forget I said anything.”

“But it weighs on you and you can’t speak about it at the chantry,” she said. If he spoke of it at the chantry, even to a single priest, rumors would spread like wildfire. “I promise I won’t repeat it.”

He hesitated and looked around before answering quietly, “A higher ranking templar ordered me to torture a mage for information.”

“Why would he do that? You’re still only a recruit,” she frowned.

“That’s probably why he wanted me to do it. To test me.”

“Is that the standard the Knight-Commander holds of her templars?” Serenity asked, feeling a rise of panic send a wave of heat crawling under her skin. That uneasiness in the pit of her stomach felt heavier. Was that the standard she held her Knight-Captain to? 

“I don’t think the Chantry wouldn’t officially order the torture of a mage, but I had no proof behind my complaint,” Beau said. “It was my word against his.”

“What was their reason for torturing this mage? Did they have proof of her dealing with demons?” Serenity asked.

Beau shook his head. “She got caught trying to send a letter to her family, so they suspected her of other things. They had no proof, and when I wouldn’t do it… they made her Tranquil. I got placed on guard duty at the chantry. The Knight-Commander said it wasn’t punishment, that it was meant to protect me and help me keep my distance from the mages until after I take my vows.”

Tranquility? For a letter? Without any kind of proof?

“That’s horrible! I can’t believe—"

“Quiet down,” he warned.

Serenity took a breath and stilled the shaking in her hands. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. If what he said was true—and she had no reason not to believe him—the mages were far worse off here than either Ferelden or Orlais. They were being tortured, and the good templars were being punished. 

“Don’t let them change you,” she said. “They will be lucky to have you within their ranks. Have you taken your vows? Is that why you were removed from the chantry?”

“No, the Knight-Captain had me transferred,” he said. “The Knight-Commander doesn’t believe mages can be trusted at all. I would get in trouble if anyone overheard what I just told you.”

“I won’t repeat it,” she assured him. She knew then why the Knight-Commander chose Cullen as her second-in-command. Aside from his sharp mind and capabilities as a dutiful soldier, he shared her sentiments on trust.

“The last thing I need is to be standing outside of the chantry all day again. Or worse.”

“If you do, I’ll make sure to visit more often and keep you entertained and fed.”

“You're trying to ruin my reputation as an elf hater.”

She cracked a smile, “Is it working?”

“A little. It helps that you don't refer to me as a ‘shem’ every other sentence and look at me like you're looking for a good place to stick a knife.”

She chuckled, “Funny that ‘shem’ has become derogatory. I was told the phrase was coined by the Dalish when they were friends with the humans. It used to mean 'quick children,' referring to the humans' longevity.”

“I didn't know that, but I can assure you their tone is more akin to ‘ugly human bastard.'”

“The elves in the alienage are long removed from their Dalish ancestors, so it may not hold the same meaning for them. Not that the Dalish hold any fondness for humans either.”

“I've met both types of elves. They all sound the same to me when they say it.”

“Well... yes, you're right. The humans invaded and enslaved the Dalish, looting and destroying any traces of their culture,” she said. “Then, the Dalish stood by and watched the humans get slaughtered during the second Blight. So, I doubt human and Dalish relations will ever be mended. Not until the elves in the cities are treated better than they are, at the very least.”

“I guess my family was just unlucky.”

“There is a lot of evil in the world. But there is a lot of good too. I've seen a lot of both. You have too,” she reminded him.

“Yes, I have. I became a templar because I wanted to do something good. Sometimes I think I should've joined the city guard though.”

“You still could. It would be better to leave sooner than later, if you make that choice,” she said. If he took his vows, he would develop a dependency on lyrium. That was why, she guessed, people say, ‘once a templar, always a templar.’

“Maybe I should go join the Grey Wardens and fight darkspawn,” he said with a chuckle.

“I can't tell if you're joking or genuinely interested. Vigil's Keep is not far south from here.”

“Vigil’s Keep? In Ferelden?” he asked, surprised. “The Free Marches have Wardens too, you know.”

“But do they really need more?” Serenity asked. “Most of Ferelden’s Wardens died at the Battle of Ostagar. I hear they’re recruiting.”

“You’re awfully informative for an elf,” he said. “I can't imagine the Knight-Commander would be too happy to lose a templar to the Wardens even if I am just a recruit.”

“But she can't stop you, can she?”

“No. I haven’t yet taken my vows. It's something to consider. I've heard they have their own army of regular soldiers.”

“If you really want to leave the templars and join the Grey Wardens, they would be happy to take you so long as you can put aside your differences and work alongside elves and mages,” Serenity said. “It’s not as safe as working for the city guard though. If you want to die old, surrounded by grandchildren, you should go that route.”

“I suppose fighting darkspawn is much different from arresting thieves,” he said. “But I hear they have tunnels all over the world, even one going under the Waking Sea.”

“If you’re not afraid of the dark or small spaces, you qualify,” she chuckled. “It helps you’ve already given up the habit of calling me a knife-ear.”

“I think running into you so much has exhausted my usage of the term. Has anyone ever told you that you're stubborn?”

“Recently accused, in fact,” she smirked. “A templar also once told me I was 'persistent like a bad rash.'”

“Well, what can I say? You've broken me down,” he shrugged. “I'm sure you're feeling smug about it.”

“A little bit. I consider myself a good judge of character. I can add you to my book of being right,” she said. “‘The elf-hater is not as bad as he made himself out to be.’”

“Please tell me you have an actual book.”

Serenity laughed, “Sorry to disappoint. I would probably have one if I were a dwarf.”

“Dwarves keep books like that, do they? I’ll watch what I say around them,” he said and realized they still stood at the threshold of the main gate. “Oh, I forgot. You said you were looking for the Knight-Captain? He’s this way.”

Beau led her across the courtyard and between two pillars in the corner, where Cullen was speaking with another templar.

“Thanks, Beau,” Serenity smiled at him and nodded as he left. She did not want to interrupt, and Cullen hadn’t noticed her presence yet. Whatever he and the templar were speaking about, it must have been serious because he was scowling the whole time.

Cullen dismissed the knight and pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking away a headache. He sighed and looked lost in thought. Serenity recognized his pensive stance; he had the habit of lifting his hand up to his chin when he was brooding.

“Cullen.”

He looked up and turned to face her, alarmed by her presence at the Gallows. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“No,” she started. She was there to say goodbye, but her curiosity got the better of her. “But by the look of things, you have your hands full. Is it something I can help with?”

He hesitated and sighed, “I’ve been up all night. A templar was murdered last night, and we suspect it was the work of a blood mage. Another templar has gone missing.”

“Where did it happen?”

“They found his body on a path along the Wounded Coast. He was following a lead there on an apostate he was supposed to bring back.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t bandits? I hear the Wounded Coast is littered with them.” He shook his head at the notion, and she asked, “How did he die?”

He looked back over his shoulder and muttered, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I can help,” she insisted.

“He was tortured, force fed raw lyrium. It caused him to bleed from the eyes and ears, and it burned a hole in his stomach.” He scowled, “Only a monster could do such a thing.”

“You’re right,” she said. “Where can one find raw lyrium around here?”

“In the Deep Roads, maybe. There are caverns along the Wounded Coast though. If they’ve been holing up in one of them…”

“I’ll investigate the Wounded Coast for you,” she offered.

“It's dangerous out there without the possibility of blood mages. No, I can't let you go alone.”

“Will you come with me then?” Speaking quietly, she added, “If you send somebody else, make sure they won’t stab me at the first sign of a spell.”

He had already planned to investigate the area, either by delegating the task to a team or doing it himself. “I will go with you. I can’t be sure that no other templar wouldn’t report you or attempt to apprehend you themselves.”

“Then, I would like to make an odd and maybe inappropriate request,” she admitted boldly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Bring Beau along. We could use the extra pair of hands. I know that he is only a recruit, but… well, I’d rather talk about it later.” She did not want to betray Beau’s trust and risk his position with the templars. “I’ll meet you at the city gate. I need to make some preparations.” 

She would have to pack enough supplies for a few days, just in case. If the mage was on the move, they would not find him on the Wounded Coast.

“That is an unusual request,” he said. “But he could use more experience outside the city. I’ll have him notified.”

* * *

  
Serenity returned to the alienage to change her clothes and pack her belongings, then returned to the Hanged Man to buy more maps from Varric. She recognized the vivacious woman speaking with Varric at the bar as the duelist from the Pearl in Denerim.

“Isabela?” she asked, surprised.

“Well, well, well. Long time no see. You remember me? I do tend to leave those I meet with a memorable… performance.”

“A friend of yours, Rivaini? Or maybe an old flame?” Varric asked.

“You could say that. We met before, back in Ferelden,” she replied.

Serenity interjected, not wanting to be confused for one of her many lovers, “We played Wicked Grace.”

“Is that so?” Varric asked. “You should join us for a game. The more the merrier. We’re playing tonight, in fact.” 

Isabela chuckled, “I hope you’ve practiced, sweet thing. I almost felt bad emptying your pockets of all those riches gained from the Deep Roads.” 

“Not as bad as you felt when Leliana won it all back, I’d wager,” Serenity smirked. “I’m afraid I can’t play tonight. In fact, I can’t stay long. Perhaps we can catch up later?”

Isabela grinned, “We could do a lot of things later, pretty thing.”

“You are too much, Rivaini,” Varric grinned and looked at Serenity. “I don’t supposed you came here looking for me?”

“I’m in need of more maps,” Serenity answered. “Of the areas surrounding Kirkwall.”

“More maps? Thinking of doing some exploring?” he asked and gestured for her to follow as he returned to his room. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought maybe you went back to wherever you came from.”

“I moved into the alienage. For my friend’s peace of mind.” She exchanged glances with Isabela and continued, “A templar was murdered last night. I’m helping find the blood mage responsible. I don’t suppose you know anything about blood mages or where they might run?”

“A blood mage?” Varric repeated, laying the maps down on the table for her. “If I were a blood mage, I would hide out on the Wounded Coast or maybe below the city in one of their underground tunnels, if I were daring. If not, I suppose I would hoof it through the mountains.”

Isabela giggled, “What are you doing working for the templars? Are you a mercenary now? Or do the Grey Wardens have something planned for Kirkwall?”

“You’re… with the Grey Wardens?” Varric asked, surprised. “I heard the Hero of Ferelden is an elf mage. I don’t suppose you are one and the same?”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone,” Serenity answered. “I’m helping a friend. It has nothing to do with the Wardens.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Frosty,” Varric winked. “You must know a lot about the Deep Roads. I have a business proposition for you if you’re interested.”

“I’m afraid I can’t commit to anything right now,” Serenity answered. “I’ll be leaving Kirkwall soon, by request of my King.”

“Damn. Figures that would be just my luck.”

“As much as I would like to repay your favors, I’m a little relieved timing interfered,” she confessed. “I hate the Deep Roads.”

“A Warden that hates the Deep Roads? That’s unfortunate,” he said. “But I guess all Wardens would hate the Deep Roads, wouldn’t they? Wardens don’t go there because they _like_ visiting the darkspawn.”

“Visiting, yes, like we’re having a tea party,” Serenity chuckled. “How much do I owe you for the maps?”

“Once again, it’s free. Especially for a friend of Isabela’s.”

* * *

  
Serenity waited with Mabari-Cullen outside the city gate, hoping she was not too conspicuous dressed in her vestments of Urthemiel with her staff, Spellfury, at her back. The embroidery on her robe suggested it once belonged to a cultist that worshipped the Archdemon she had slain. Aside from its powerful enchantments, she liked the irony of reclaiming the robes, even if she did find them in a flesh sac at Drake’s Falls. She found all kinds of treasures in the most disgusting of places.

When Cullen and Beau walked out, Serenity waved at them, pleased to see Beau without his helmet. “So, that’s what you look like,” she said.

“The Knight-Captain said I didn’t have to wear it if I didn’t want to,” he answered, carrying a great sword at his back and a satchel swung over his shoulder. “You look different. Is that a staff…?”

“It’s just a fancy walking stick,” she answered dismissively.

“Do you have everything?” Cullen asked and averted his eyes when he caught himself looking at her legs. He had seen her wear similar robes when she infiltrated the Circle, but he hadn’t really _noticed_ them before. It was hard now not to see how high the hem of her skirt fell and how tightly fitted the bodice was—not at all like the modest robes the mages in the Circle were provided with.

“Yes, I have maps of the surrounding areas that I bought from a dwarf.”

“Was it a dwarf with more hair on his chest than on his face?” Cullen asked knowingly.

“Varric? He’s great, tells the best stories,” Beau grinned. Seeing the look Cullen shot him, he quickly added, “Not that I’ve been down at the Hanged Man or anything…”

“That would be the one,” Serenity answered and started walking.

Beau had been told not to ask questions, but he had so many. “Knight-Captain, could I just—”

“No,” Cullen answered.

Serenity glanced back at Cullen and asked, “Is he not allowed to speak?”

“I already know what he means to ask,” Cullen answered. They were on an investigation for the templar order, and Serenity was obviously not a templar.

“He said my attendance on this mission was ‘contingent upon my cooperation without question,’” Beau said, “and that the details of the investigation were to stay between us.”

“You could say I’m a specialist,” Serenity said. “If that answers your question.”

“What kind of specialist?” Beau asked.

Cullen sighed and looked over at Serenity to exchange looks with her. He was trying to help guard her identity, but it would only be so long before she cast a spell, provided they found what they were looking for. He could see she was amused by the whole exchange, however.

“I’m somewhat of a scholar,” she said, “and a private investigator, having studied the habits of apostates and their methods of escape.”

“You do seem better educated than the other knife—” he caught himself and muttered, “elves.”

“I was more fortunate than most ‘knife-elves,’” she answered. “A lot of them don’t have access to books.”

“Have you been published?” Beau asked. “It seems like I can’t go anywhere in the library without bumping into a chronicle written by Brother Genetivi.” 

“If I were, it would have to be under a pseudonym,” Serenity said. “Or, perhaps, through the Circle of Magi. They seem to have no problem publishing academic texts written by elves.” 

“You would have to work alongside a senior enchanter for that to happen, I think. But there’s no way the Circle would let you in,” Beau said. “If you’re not published, can you really call yourself a scholar?” 

“I’ll call myself whatever I want,” Serenity said, crossing her arms defiantly. “And I did say ‘somewhat.’”

“What matters,” Cullen said, interrupting Beau, “is that she knows something about blood mages and she wants to help the templars.” 

  
They made their way east to the Wounded Coast and followed the path until they came to a fork in the road.

“I should have asked Varric what these markings on the map mean, but there are more of them on the northern path. They could be caves,” Serenity guessed.

Cullen looked over her shoulder and pointed to the western most path leading north. “This leads to Sundermount.” He traced the path south with his finger and stopped. “And this is where the body was found.”

“What are we looking for?” Beau asked.

“Clues.”

“Let’s follow it north,” Serenity suggested, aware of how closely he stood beside her to look at the map. It made her feel warm and tempted to look up at him, but then, she thought, he might move away.

“I agree. It’s the longer way to Sundermount, but we might find something on the way,” Cullen said.

For once, Serenity didn’t mind the extra walking. It meant prolonging their time together, even if it meant sorer feet. A worthy exchange. They followed the road toward the first mark on the map, in a nook off the main path. When they came upon it, they found an empty campsite. “Bandits,” Cullen said. “We should move quickly, before they come back. We can give the city guard the location of their campsite when we return.”

Serenity turned to walk away, but a bag caught her eye. She quickly knelt down and opened it.

“What are you doing? We shouldn’t touch anything. The last thing we need is to alert the bandits to our presence.”

She held up a potent lyrium potion and said, “I’m taking donations.”

Beau followed Serenity’s lead and walked over to a chest and kicked the latch, popping it open. “Oops. Well, since it’s open…”

Cullen sighed, “Maker’s breath. Beau, don’t let her reckless behavior influence you.”

Serenity stood up, placing the potion in her pack and walked over to the open chest. “That’s right, Beau. I’m a terrible influence.”

“That—that isn’t what I meant,” Cullen started.

“We traveling scholars don’t see a lot of coin unless we visit the Chantry board,” she said.

She didn’t mean to undermine Cullen, but if an opportunity to rob some bandits without confrontation presented itself, she had to take it. The Grey Wardens were provided shelter, food, and supplies when they stayed where they were stationed, but she had wandered off. She would be paying her own way in the Free Marches and soon in search of Morrigan in southern Ferelden. She plucked a silverite rune from the collection of junk and closed the lid on it.

They continued up the path through the cliffs, carefully bypassing the empty bandit camps marked on the map. They started downhill, between two encampments, when they nearly passed a small cave entrance tucked into the mountain. Mabari-Cullen stopped them with a soft growl.

“Good boy,” Serenity said, walking past him and stepping carefully into the darkness, keeping her hands out to feel the walls and guide her way. She walked further in, blindly at first, until the narrow corridor opened up and a small smoldering flame dimly lit the path to the next room.

Mabari-Cullen followed at her heel with the templars in tow and stopped beside her, growling at the room ahead lit in a blue-green hue.

“There’s something up ahead,” she cautioned, holding her staff tightly.

Cullen stepped down ahead of her, unsheathing his sword and holding his shield. 

“Stay back,” Beau warned her as he held his sword out in front of him. 

They heard a skittering noise and a hiss, then three giant spiders dropped from their web in the ceiling. Mabari-Cullen moved quickly, overpowering the nearest spider, and tackled it to the ground to tear it limb from limb.

Cullen and Beau cut the other two spiders down without Serenity having to contribute to the fight at all. She knew it was better that she not give away her secret unless she had to. Facing a blood mage was a good enough reason, but spiders? Spiders were nothing to templars.

Mabari-Cullen explored the area after the spiders lay dead and lifted his leg to pee on a pillar of skulls.

“Look at this. They need a new interior decorator,” Serenity said. “That looks like a drake skull. This might not be the cave of a blood mage but those dragon cultists.”

“Dragon cultists?” Cullen sighed. “Great. Where there’s a dragon cult, there’s usually dragons.”

“And where there’s dragons, there’s usually a huge one,” Beau grimaced.

“We can kill it,” Serenity said confidently, “and you can keep the scales as souvenirs.”

“Oh, can we?” Beau balked. “I’m flattered you have such faith in our abilities, elf-scholar, but we’re trained to fight mages, not dragons!”

Serenity moved back up the stairs ahead of them and said, “What if the blood mage is one of the cultists?”

“Let’s hope that’s not the case,” Cullen said. He was a trained soldier, but he didn’t have any experience with dragons. He imagined it would be much different from fighting men.

They continued down the path, passing three lit lanterns on their way into a larger open cavern. She looked to the right and pointed at a glowing rock with blue veins. “There.”

Beau approached it and said, “They're using this to torture templars?”

“Don’t touch it,” Cullen warned. "Raw lyrium is dangerous."

"So, I shouldn't lick it?" Beau asked. "Have you ever licked a toad, Knight-Captain? I thought it would be like that."

"Maker's breath... You can't be serious," Cullen sighed.

"I'm not saying I was going to do it. Just that a little bit might get you high."

Serenity laughed, not too surprised that Beau was the type to think 'I should put this in my mouth and see what happens.' He would make a fine Grey Warden with that attitude. 

She walked down the staircase on the side of the cave, leading down into the main hall. She could see an altar with a fire burning at the end of it, and large piles of gold coins on either side of it.

Cullen saw her take the stairs down and quickly followed. He found himself anxious at losing sight of her, even briefly. He knew she was capable of feats he couldn’t even imagine, but every instinct he had was to stand between her and any potential threat she might discover below. “Be careful,” he warned, joining her downstairs. “Please, stay close.”

Serenity looked up at him then and smiled, taking a side step closer to him. She didn’t mind if he took the lead. “I think we’re in a dragon’s lair,” she said and gestured toward the gold. “We could fight it.”

Cullen chuckled, seeing how she looked up at him as if to ask permission to disturb whatever winged beast lie hidden within the walls. “Do you think this dragon has anything to do with the blood mage we’re after?”

“It might,” she said. “The cult we found in Haven used blood magic.”

Beau descended the stairs behind them and gasped, “Look at all that gold! Who would just leave it there?”

“Dragon cultists, Beau,” Cullen answered. “Stand over there. We’re going inside.”

“To fight a dragon? Am I getting paid extra for this?” Beau asked, moving cautiously against the wall. The ceiling was hidden by a thick mist.

As Cullen walked into the center of the room with his shield raised, they heard a thunderous flapping of wings, and the mist swirled above them as a drake swooped down, landing in front of him. Without giving it a chance to attack first, Cullen bashed the beast with his shield as Beau cautiously joined him in the fight.

“I was expecting something… bigger,” Beau remarked.

When the drake whipped around, smacking Beau back with its tail, and snapped at Cullen with its beak, Serenity ran down the steps to join the fight.

“Stay back!” Cullen shouted. He knew she could help them—maybe even slay it on her own—but if she intended to keep her magic a secret, she had to stay out of the fight. Her mabari proved helpful enough.

Serenity waited with her staff ready. If she thought the drake might get past his shield, she wouldn’t hesitate to freeze it before it could do him harm. Having to watch him fight it without her though caused her a great deal of stress—as much stress as she would have felt if the drake were focused on her. But she took that time to observe how Cullen fought, thinking him as good with a shield as Alistair had been. She wasn’t sure how often he saw battle, considering he spent the majority of his time within the confines of the Circle, but it didn’t surprise her that the Knight-Captain was skilled with a sword and shield.

The thought of fighting beside him excited her and made her blood run hot, but she did as he’d advised and remained disengaged from the battle. She regretted then asking him to invite Beau. She had been thinking as the Commander of the Grey, scouting a potential recruit. But she could have proved to him that he could trust her by helping him in the fight. Not that she doubted his trust in her, but it wasn’t the same as seeing firsthand how powerful she had become. She wasn’t just an apprentice with a few ice spells anymore. She was an arcane warrior and a battlemage.

_Pride is not a virtue,_ she reminded herself. As eager as she was to show off, she knew it was dangerous to possess so much pride. It could lead to reckless behavior. It could lead to somebody getting hurt.

She kept an eye on Beau too as they volleyed the drake’s attention back and forth, whittling down its defenses. When the drake turned its attention on Serenity and attempted to move past Cullen, he found the opportunity to drive his sword into its throat. He pushed the blade in and upward, and the drake fell, spilling its blood on him as it stumbled and collapsed.

“Even the little ones are strong,” Beau said, exhausted from the long fight.

With the mist dispersed, Serenity could clearly see the cultists’ altar with a tome set upon it. When she picked it up, it felt warm and vile in her hands—like it was alive. She opened it, curiously, not surprised to find secrets of blood magic, some of which she was familiar with and others that she was not. She felt more powerful as she skimmed over the pages, like the words on the pages awakened something in her blood, warming and inviting her. She could not risk being caught with the book in her possession, but she wanted to read it. The more she knew, the better she felt, whether she practiced her knowledge or not. She knew even that was dangerous though. _Desire._

Cullen pulled a cloth from his pouch to clean his face and wipe his blade before sheathing it. “Is everyone okay? Nobody injured?”

“This beats the hell out of guarding the chantry all day!” Beau grinned, invigorated.

Mabari-Cullen barked happily to let them know he was okay too. He enjoyed a good fight.

“It looks like your blood mage was here. He left one of his books behind,” Serenity said, still flipping through the pages, looking for any hints about Blight magic. She would risk ripping that page out and keeping it if she found it, but the book mostly held rituals for demons and longevity. 

“They’re probably not coming back here anytime soon. Destroy that book, and we’ll get out of here,” Cullen said.

She reluctantly walked over to the fire at the altar, still leafing through the pages. As she neared the flame, she felt threatened. “We may have a problem.”

“More dragons?” Beau asked.

“What is it?” Cullen asked, gripping the handle of his sword.

“This book is demonic. When I destroy it, they’ll be released.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t destroy it?” Beau asked.

“We’re templars," Cullen reminded her. "We’re trained to deal with demons."

Serenity gently closed the book and set it back down exactly where she’d found it, careful not to disturb or betray the demons within. Most of the sustained spells she planned to cast would drain her energy fast. She was glad she’d looted that bandit’s lyrium potion, considering she could not resort to blood magic in the presence of templars. Before she even released the demons, her mana pool would be cut in half. She did not intend to let Cullen fight a group of demons without her help.

“I may be able to take out the weaker threats and weaken the bigger ones,” Serenity said.

“Wait, what?” Beau asked, confused.

“I need you to trust me and wait until I cast my spells,” she said.

“Wait, WHAT?” Beau repeated. “You’re a…?”

“A mage,” Cullen answered. “I thought she would keep it secret a while longer.”

“Knight-Captain?” Beau looked at him, confused.

“She is a Grey Warden and… an old friend of mine. You won’t tell anyone about her.”

“Understood,” he said, still reeling. “Wait, is she the same—?”

“Stop talking,” Cullen warned him.

Beau kept his mouth shut, but he knew then that the rumors were true. Knight-Commander Meredith had gone to great lengths to prevent the rumors from circulating, harshly punishing those that repeated them. Cullen had once harbored feelings for a mage.

“How long would you have us wait?” Cullen asked, standing ready with his sword and shield.

“Just until they’re frozen,” she said and started casting. She began with Combat Magic, which improved her staff focus and activated her Fade Shield and Fade Shroud so she only partly existed in the physical realm, spanning the gap between the Fade and the real world and increasing her mana regeneration. Some of the demons’ attacks would go right through her if they reached her at all. She continued with Elemental Chaos, surrounding herself with a colorful field of chaotic swirling energy that cycled through the elements, attacking every resistance, augmented by her Elemental Mastery. This was as close as she could get to showing off, knowing she would have to cast fewer spells to do more damage.

She picked up the book again and the power within it flared up, sending a rush of adrenaline through her, offering her greater power. She threw the book into the fire and turned to face three corpses rising out of the ground, a revenant materializing out of thin air, and two angry abominations.

Cullen had to reach out and place his hand on Beau’s chest, halting him from instinctively running into battle. “Hold.”

“But… there are so many!” Beau protested.

Serenity stood in the center of the room and waited for all of the entities to close in on her before she cast Hand of Winter, freezing all of them in place with a burst of intense cold. Two of the corpses were disposed of instantly and deteriorated back into the earth. Mabari-Cullen darted into the room and charged the third corpse, shattering it as Cullen and Beau positioned themselves to fight the abominations.

“Hacking away at this thing is a lot easier when it’s not moving!” Beau shouted.

“Stay focused!” Cullen shouted back, bashing the abomination with his shield in an attempt to shatter it.

The revenant was first to break the ice encasing it and charged Serenity, shrieking. She ran across the room towards the abominations, stepping into the Fade as it swiped at her, and cast cone of cold to hinder its movements again.

She concentrated on a sustained spell, giving herself an aura of Invigoration to bolster Cullen and Beau’s energy at the cost of her own, and then she cast Draining Aura. She knew she wouldn’t escape the fight unscathed, but with the aura, she could heal after the revenant hit her, so long as it stayed within range. She couldn’t expand the range of the spell without expending too much mana—and she didn’t want to exhaust herself before they even found the blood mage they were after.

She fumbled with her pack, pulling out the potent lyrium potion she’d found earlier and guzzled it down, dropping the empty bottle on the ground. Her throat burned, but she felt energized, enough to maintain the spells she’d cast with renewed focus. 

Cullen blocked the attempted blows from the abomination with his shield and struck it down with a Righteous Smite so it crumpled to the floor.

“You need to teach me that!” Beau shouted, blocking the abomination’s maw with his blade while Mabari-Cullen attacked it from behind. He struck down the abomination with a Mighty Blow.

The revenant was upon Serenity and scratched her, but the pain she felt only served to replenish her mana more. She cast Winter’s Grasp again and retreated behind Cullen as he put himself between her and the revenant. With his Shield Wall, he was able to hold off the revenant from getting past him and blocked its attacks while Beau and Mabari-Cullen flanked it.

Another corpse crawled out of the ground behind Serenity as the revenant was defeated, but Mabari-Cullen lunged for it, knocking it to the ground to tear it apart just as Serenity cast Winter’s Grasp on it. Mabari-Cullen barked happily, having killed that one all on his own—and she had just wasted her mana casting a spell on a dead corpse.

“Quit trying to steal my thunder, Cullen,” she laughed and knelt down as the dog ran over to her, tail wagging. She gripped his head between her hands and rubbed him behind the ears. She kissed him on the forehead, “Good boy.”

Cullen felt his cheeks burn, certain she hadn’t just playfully accused _him_ of intervening too early as she doted on her war hound.

“’Cullen’?” he asked, reaching down to help her up. “You named your mabari after me?”

She had been careful up until then not to call him by his name and blushed at having let it slip. “I named him for his loyalty,” she said, taking his arm as she stood up. “And for the small chance that if I ever did become an abomination, I know he’d go for the throat.” Mabari-Cullen whimpered at the prospect. “Oh, come now, stop whining. You know I’ll be fine,” she scolded him. 

“I hate to think about what you could do if you did become an abomination,” Cullen murmured.

“I’ve never seen a mage cast spells like that before,” Beau said, pretending he didn’t just hear all that about the dog. “Now I feel bad knowing if I did attack you when we first met, I would’ve been shattered into tiny frozen pieces.”

She chuckled, “I wouldn’t have hurt you. Your superiors would have found you sleeping on the job, however.”

With the excitement of battle subsiding, she noticed a burning sensation from the potent lyrium potion she’d ingested. Her skin prickled from it, and her mind felt muddled, almost like she was a bit drunk. She wiped her cheek and winced at how it stung, having forgotten about the scratch from the revenant.

“You’re hurt,” Cullen said, noticing the smear of blood after she touched it. He kept his hand on her elbow as he led her to the stairs while Beau opened his bag to dig out a bandage and a health poultice.

“It’s nothing,” Serenity said and sat down on the stairs. She didn’t mind being fussed over though as Beau applied a health poultice to the cut and pressed a bandage over it.

“You probably could’ve just healed yourself, huh?” Beau asked.

“She doesn’t know any healing spells,” Cullen answered.

“What? Why not?”

“I’m too busy killing monsters,” Serenity said.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Beau admitted and noticed Cullen looking at him. “I’m, uh, gonna go see what the dog is looking at.”

Serenity looked up at Cullen as Beau gave them some space and said, “I won’t tell you not to worry about me becoming an abomination, that being your duty. I am careful though.”

“You passed your Harrowing and survived the Circle in Ferelden,” he said, more to remind himself. “But even so.”

“I feel like I've been awake for years,” she said quietly. “Since my Harrowing, my affinity for the Fade has only improved. I am not always lucid, but it’s not like it was before. It takes all the joy out of dreaming. I might see an old friend and wonder if they’re a demon in disguise.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Cullen said.

“It is. Before meeting the Sloth demon, I enjoyed dreaming. I think what I saw were reflections of memories or just projections of my will—what or who I wanted to see. Now I fear being trapped in the illusion. I let it fall away and enter the Fade as very few see it,” she said. “Every so often, I will let the illusion persist, but I am aware it isn’t real. I miss dreaming without fear.”

“As do I,” he said softly. “I know that Sloth demon stole at least a dozen lives. I didn’t realize the effect he had on your sleep, even after you killed him.” 

“I suppose it isn’t really fear anymore but apprehension. I’ve been told what you feel can attract things,” she said. “If I’m fearful, I may attract fearlings and find myself in a nightmare. I am more curious now, but… I still exercise caution.”

“I would like to hear more about your experiences with the realm of dreams when we have more time to talk.”

She smiled, relieved her admissions didn’t make him uneasy. “I have many stories to tell you.”

“I’ll go scout out the entrance and make sure everything is clear up ahead,” Beau offered and walked up the stairs. Mabari-Cullen followed him in case any more spiders came out of hiding.

Cullen continued, keeping his voice hushed, “I, ah… I’m honored you named your mabari after me... and kept his name even after I wasn't very loyal to you at the Circle.”

“I understand why you said the things you did,” she said. “I’m just glad you don’t still feel the same way about me.” 

His words never left her, a painful reminder of his fear and all that he suffered at the hands of mages. But he didn’t look at her anymore the way he did that day. He had endured so much. She forgave him the moment the words left his lips. 

“You have hardly changed…” Cullen noted fondly, still taken by her compassion and understanding. “The fame hasn’t gone to your head.”

“I didn’t like it at first, but it serves as a useful tool,” Serenity said and stood up, brushing the dust off her bottom. “Now that the Blight is ended though, I don’t have the right of conscription anymore. Not until the darkspawn surface again. I rather liked being able to save lives and make friends.”

“If there are two things you have a talent for, aside from your ‘harmless pranks’ with frost, it is saving people and making friends,” Cullen said.

“Everything is clear at the entrance,” Beau said, standing behind them. “The dog caught whiff of a trail, I think.”

The four of them left the cave and continued around the coast, following the path northwest until they entered Sundermount.


	7. The Spellward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They set up camp in Sundermount and Serenity gives Cullen a gift before saying goodbye.

As the sand turned to rich soil on the rocky path from the Wounded Coast, Serenity started to appreciate the lush greenery. “So, there is beauty to be found in the Free Marches,” she said. “Kirkwall with all of its rusted abatis makes me homesick for Ferelden. But this?”  
“Of course you like the forest,” Beau scoffed.

“Oh, because I’m an elf?” she asked. “Maybe I prefer the smell of fresh air to the stench of death and fear.”

“Only dogs can smell fear,” Beau argued. “Don’t pretend you elves have special noses.”

“Beau, you must show some restraint,” Cullen advised. “Whenever you start to say something, say it in your head first and decide whether it’s better left unspoken.”

“Yes, Knight-Captain,” Beau answered, straightening up.

Beau still wondered why the Knight-Captain had hand-picked him, a mere recruit, to join them in hunting down a maleficar. Only templars who finished their training and took their vows ever hunted mages. Unless this was a part of the templar-recruits’ initiation, he thought. He had heard rumors circulating about a dangerous ritual. Fighting demons and blood mages was about as dangerous as it could get.

“If anyone passed through, they would have been seen by the Dalish clan here, right?” Serenity asked.

“Perhaps, but… I don’t know if they would be so quick to talk with templars,” Cullen said.

“They would probably try to kill us on sight,” Beau added bitterly.

“Does this clan have a reputation for killing humans or templars on sight? I find it hard to believe, considering how close they are to Kirkwall. I would think the humans would raze them to the ground in retaliation,” Serenity said and turned to Beau. “But… you would know better than I.” “They don’t like us. It’s as simple as that. Maybe they’ll kill us and get rid of the bodies.”

Serenity sighed. She thought he had a lot of maturing to do in a short amount of time if he intended to join the Grey Wardens… or succeed in the templars, for that matter. She could tell Cullen thought Beau lacked discipline.

“That’s enough, Beau. They won’t attack us unless we give them reason to,” Cullen chided him and looked to Serenity. “He is right about one thing though. They won’t be very welcoming.”

“We won’t know until we try. And trying may involve Beau not talking,” Serenity said.

Beau grumbled at that, but Cullen looked at him and said, “You will keep silent and not do anything that will lead to a confrontation, understand?”

“Yes, Knight-Captain.”

They were approaching the end of the day as they came upon the Sabrae clan’s banners marked with their heraldry, a white halla. The hunters informed the Keeper of their arrival and led them to her hut where she granted them safe passage to the mountain.

“Andaran atish’an, outsider. I am the Keeper of this clan, Marethari.”

“Ma serannas,” Serenity replied, bowing her head respectfully. “I am Serenity, Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and these are my companions, Knight-Captain Cullen and Beau, a templar-recruit.”

Mabari-Cullen barked.

“And… my Warden-Mabari,” Serenity added.

“Warden-Commander?” Marethari spoke softly. “I have met one of your order before. Warden-Commander Duncan. He came to us with warnings of the Blight, and we moved north. We heard about what happened at Ostagar…”

“Duncan is the man that saved my life and conscripted me,” Serenity said. “He did not survive the battle at Ostagar. I have taken over his duties as the Warden-Commander.”

This was news to Beau, but he remembered Cullen’s command to stay silent and knew better than to interrupt. He did wonder why the Commander of the Grey Wardens was in the Free Marches, but he was even more curious why she had taken such an interest in him of all people. As far as he knew, he did nothing to make a good impression on her.

“You are welcome here,” Marethari smiled. “I am told you seek passage in pursuit of a blood mage.”

“Yes,” Cullen answered. “One of our order was murdered. Our investigation leads us to believe he passed through Sundermount.”

“This morning a cloaked traveler did pass through. He was peculiar… but peaceful.”

“Ma serannas,” Serenity said. “Could we trade with your craftsman before we venture up the mountain?”

“Yes, you may.”

  
As Serenity walked over to the craftsman’s table, she nudged Beau with her elbow and said, “Loosen up.”

In a hushed tone, he replied, “They’re just looking for an excuse to stick us.”

“Then, do not give them one,” she replied. “Keep in mind that if you are interested in becoming a Grey Warden, you must put aside your personal feelings and become a neutral party. The Dalish are the Grey Wardens’ allies.”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” he whispered.

“You would not have believed me,” she answered.

Beau sighed, still feeling apprehensive with all the elves’ eyes trained on them. He knew she was right. He had heard things about the Hero of Ferelden, including that she was an elf and a mage. He never thought he would meet her though. Nor did he ever consider he might work under her. Cullen and Beau waited while Serenity browsed the craftsman’s wares, trading in some of her old accessories. She picked up a halla horn for its empowering enchantment to mental resistance and paid the craftsman.

“It’s beautiful,” she commented.

“Ma serannas. That is one of my favorite pieces.”

She turned and held it out to Beau. “This is for you. It’s carved from the horn of a sacred animal.”

“Oh.” He accepted and inspected it. It was polished smooth, but it was whiter than any bone he had ever seen. “…Thanks.”

“Put it on,” she said firmly.

Beau obeyed before giving it much thought. He slipped it around his neck and tucked it into his armor, and realized she had just used the same tone on him that Cullen did. For such a small woman, she could have a big presence, he thought. He knew that before learning she was the Commander of the Grey, but maybe that was why she possessed so much self-assurance.

  
Cullen noticed, of course, how she paid special mind to the templar-recruit. He had wondered why she wanted him to join them and realized she saw the same things in Beau that he did. Doubt. Compassion. Stubbornness, maybe.

At first, he did not want to lose a recruit with so much potential and didn’t like that Serenity would try to sway him to leave the order before he took his vows. But he also knew Beau was troubled by the inner workings of the Circle. His punishment had been undeserved. Cullen didn’t disagree with the caution and distrust the order felt around mages, but he still couldn’t condemn Beau’s insubordination as being wrong.

It was difficult to find balance, especially in a Circle where such extreme measures were taken against the mages for such small offenses. It either encouraged acts of cruelty or compassion. How could one fall in between when they were forced to make the choice? Beau wasn’t even a full-fledged templar and he had been ordered to commit an act of cruelty. It caused him to doubt.

Now, Cullen could see that Serenity only meant to offer the recruit another way. As reluctant as he was to admit it, without more discipline and understanding of the dangers of magic, Beau could be at risk as a templar for his compassion. He knew he was going to lose his templar-recruit, but he didn’t resent her for it. Beau needed to dedicate himself to something, and if he wasn’t fully dedicated to being a templar, he needed to find his calling.

Following the mountain road, they came upon a camp with a lit fire outside the settlement. Cullen was going to stop them and approach with caution, but ever the audacious one, Serenity walked into the camp and kicked the foot of the sleeping mage to wake him.

“Maker preserve me,” Cullen sighed. He had always thought her confident, but this was something else. Since becoming a Grey Warden, it seemed like she had become impulsive and reckless. He saw the potential for demons, abominations, and a cult hiding in the bushes, but Serenity saw a man taking a nap.

The man startled and bolted upright. He saw the two templars standing behind Serenity, and a shiver of fear ran through him. “Who… who are you? I don’t have much… you can have it. Just don’t kill me!”

“Do we look like bandits to you? Come now,” Serenity said.

“You can never be sure…”

“That’s wishful thinking, isn’t it?” she asked and noticed him reaching for his staff. “We want to talk.”

“What is there to talk about?” he asked, rising to his feet, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two templars.

“Why did you torture that templar the way you did?” she asked. “Surely you know you made life a lot worse for other mages. What you did will reach the ears of every citizen of Thedas.”

“’Why’?” he asked incredulously. “Because he was a templar, hunting me like an animal! He deserved worse!”

Beau lunged forward and punched him in the face. “I’ll kill you!”

Serenity shoved Beau and shouted, “Stop!”

The mage stumbled back and spat blood. “See? They’ll never let me live! They see a mage and their instincts are ‘kill’!”

She turned to the mage and held up her hands to stay him, “Don’t fight us!”

“You should join me. We could kill these templars together and escape,” he offered.

She could only hope he would be foolish enough to elaborate. “And then what? Where would we go?”

“You’ll see when you join me,” he said, licking the blood off his lip.

Serenity gripped her staff, aware of what he was about to do.

The mage looked at all three of them uneasily and shook his head, “Forget it! You all die!” He threw his hands up in the air and quickly recited a spell, too quickly for Serenity or the others to interrupt.

Beau stabbed at the mage, but the sword seemed to glide through him like he was made of mist. “Shit!”

“You want to kill?” the blood mage asked, manipulating the blood in Beau’s veins. “Kill HIM.”

Beau felt heavy and groaned as he turned to face Cullen. He tried to fight the pull of his muscles, but his body moved of its own accord, swinging his great sword at his Knight-Captain. “I can’t—”

Expelling more than half of her own mana to clash with the blood mage’s, Serenity effectively drained all of his mana and turned it against him, causing him to take spirit damage. While there was no evidence of physical trauma, the blood mage collapsed on his hands and knees weakly. The mage’s breathing was shallow, his heartbeat slow and his spirit teetering on the veil. Serenity drained the remainder of his life, taking it as her own.

Beau dropped his sword when the blood mage’s hold on him was relinquished. “Knight-Captain, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cullen answered, relieved Serenity was able to kill the mage so easily. He didn’t think she would be the one to do it, even though he knew she had killed Uldred and his followers at the Circle. He had never seen her kill a mage with his own eyes.

For a moment, he was relieved she hadn’t seen him kill the mage—but then, he thought, it would have been better if she had. He inwardly admonished himself for wanting to protect her idea of him. She still held onto the memories of who he was before. 

But he was a templar, tasked to hunt mages and kill them when they resisted. Could she see him kill a mage and still smile at him the way she did? He thought, confronted with the reality of what he was, she wouldn’t.

“We’re not done yet,” Serenity warned as two lesser rage demons climbed out of the ground and a desire demon came from the shadows in the trees.

Cullen stepped between Serenity and the desire demon as it cast a bolt of dark energy at her, absorbing the attack with his shield. He raised his sword and stunned the desire demon with Holy Smite before charging forward and running his sword through her, drawing out a wail of pain.

Beau and Mabari-Cullen each drew the attention of a lesser rage demon while Serenity put some distance between herself and the battle. She continued to shoot orbs of cold energy at the lesser rage demon her mabari attacked, but she was unable to cast any substantial spells.

Cullen slid the desire demon off his sword and turned to Beau and shouted, “Holy Smite, or did you forget your training?” He aided the mabari by shield bashing the lesser rage demon, quickly dispatching it.

Beau followed his instruction and stunned the lesser rage demon long enough to strike a killing blow.

Serenity took a deep breath after the demons lay dead. “I apologize. I was too slow to interrupt his summoning. I guess it was too much to hope to get answers out of him.”

“You did fine,” Cullen answered, sheathing his sword. “We should search for clues and set up camp.”

  
They searched the mage’s robes and looked through his bag. “He doesn’t have a lot of rations or heavy clothing,” Beau noted.

“He was travelling light, probably for speed,” Cullen said.

“Or he might have seen us coming and didn’t have time to restock,” Beau added.

“Or maybe he didn’t intend on going very far,” Serenity suggested.

“Either way, tomorrow we will report back to Kirkwall. We don’t have enough to go on. I’ll report our findings to Meredith, and she can decide if she wants to send out more men to look for them,” Cullen said.

They decided to spend the night in the dead man’s camp and take turns keeping watch in case his friends showed up.

“I’ll take first watch,” Cullen said, noticing how shaken Beau was by the blood mage’s spell. “Get some sleep, Beau.”

“I’ll try. Those blood mages are real bastards,” he muttered. “It felt like an invisible force was pulling me around. My will was not my own.”

“You’ve experienced firsthand what blood magic can do,” Cullen said and thought perhaps Beau's stance within the Circle might change yet.

Beau tucked his hands behind his head as he tried to find a comfortable position. “I’m just glad I didn’t lose control of my bladder.”

Serenity tended to the fire and watched Cullen through the rising flames. She wasn’t sure why, but she had the feeling he was upset with her. Was it because she had tried speaking with the blood mage? Or did seeing the blood mage exert mind control over Beau stir up anxious memories from Kinloch Hold?

She waited until Beau closed his eyes before circling the fire pit to sit beside Cullen. “Are you all right?”

“Why did you ask me to bring Beau along?” he asked, certain he already knew the answer. “So that you can recruit him?”

She bit her lip and kept her eyes on the flickering flames as they popped and crackled. “He told me what happened and mentioned that he was thinking about leaving. He was the one that suggested the Grey Wardens, not I. I only wanted to help him make a decision, one way or the other.” Cullen sighed, “I think you will have your recruit.”

“Are you angry with me?” she asked, looking at him. “I should have told you, but I didn’t think you would go along with it, and I didn’t want to get him into any trouble.”

“No, I’m…” Cullen wasn’t sure why he was angry. It wasn’t about Beau. He wasn’t even sure if it was about her. “I don’t know what I am.”

“Angry about the blood mage?” she asked. “Did it upset you that I spoke to him?”

“It did give him a chance to act, but I know what you were trying to do,” he answered, feeling the gentle sound of her voice ease his tension.

“I should have let you take the lead,” she admitted. “I apologize. I’ve become accustomed to leading, but… you are the templar, and this is your investigation. I should not have jeopardized it.”

“You didn’t,” Cullen said. “He would not have spoken a word to me at all. Except, perhaps, ‘kill.’”

“I promise to consult with you next time,” she said.

“’Next time’?” he chuckled.

“It is strange for me to suggest I hunt maleficarum with you, isn’t it? I thought we worked well together though,” she said, resting her elbows on her knees.

“I didn’t think you would kill him,” Cullen confessed. “I saw you weaken him, but I thought I would make the killing blow. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it when you did. I know the important thing is that the deed was done, but part of me wondered if you could still call yourself my friend if you saw me kill a mage.”

“He wasn’t just any mage,” Serenity said, looking up at him. “I know what your duties entail. I always have. But not all mages are the same. He was a monster.”

Cullen knew she understood that as well as he did. He took his eyes away from the fire to glance down at her, feeling that pull on his heart again when he saw her looking up at him. He quickly looked away and said, “I am grateful for your help today. I'm not sure I would have walked away unscathed without you.”

"I wasn't sure if you would trust having a mage fight beside you."

"I may be wary of mages, but I know I can trust you, Serenity," he answered softly as he watched the flames in front of them.

She smiled and thought she should ask the question that had been hanging over her head since the Blight ended. "I meant to ask you something before," she said hesitantly as she drew her knees toward her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“Go ahead,” he said, meeting her eyes.

"Do you... have someone?" she asked. She was almost certain she knew the answer, but she couldn’t be sure. She still sensed whatever it was they had between them, but she could have been reading into things.

"Have someone?" he asked and stammered, averting his gaze, "Oh, I... ah... no. My duties require too much from me."

"Oh. Have you taken vows?" she asked, hoping desperately that he hadn’t. The vows he took as a templar already complicated matters, but vows of celibacy would have made her feel like a harlot chasing after a priest.

"What? No, I, ah… Maker's breath..." He cleared his throat and looked at her again. "I've taken no such vows. I just... a lot has happened. What with the Circle in Ferelden and now the Gallows in Kirkwall."

"I see," she said, relieved. "The mages need you here. Like I needed you in Ferelden."

When there was a rustle in the leaves just outside their camp, out of sight in the darkness of the woods, Cullen stood, partially pulling his sword from its sheath in anticipation. When Mabari-Cullen followed a wild nug out from behind a bush, nosing its hindquarters playfully, Cullen relaxed. Serenity stood up beside him and signed to Mabari-Cullen to 'sneak.' She didn't need him waking Beau before morning light.

Cullen smiled ruefully, watching the mabari obey. "How did you come to have a war hound?"

"He imprinted on me at Ostagar. His master was killed," she said. "He's incredible."

"I've always wanted a dog, but... templars are not allowed to keep dogs, not even mabari."

Serenity was relieved at the thought, even though she would like Cullen to be able to keep a dog. If templars were allowed to keep mabaris, that would mean they would be trained to hunt and kill mages. Just the thought made her stomach turn.

"Not that I would suggest templars should train the mabari," he said, sensing her discomfort. "I didn't mean..."

"It's okay," she said and smiled at him reassuringly, "Maybe someday you will have one of your own. They’re the most loyal dogs. It’s said they serve only one master their entire lives." She watched as Mabari-Cullen laid down on his belly, crawling quietly toward the nug as it explored the campsite. "He saw something in me. And I see something in you. Someday some puppy will see the same thing I do.”

  
The growing affection that gnawed at Cullen altogether threatened to consume him, but he steeled himself against the feeling welling up in his chest. When he looked at Serenity for too long, sometimes it felt like the world around him disappeared. All the feelings he'd had for her once, years ago, came back stronger, an affirmation that his feelings for her were always real and that they were never truly gone. Living with those feelings was its own torture, and he had to try to distance himself from them. He needed to forget again.

He had dissociated from the person he was in Ferelden after the Circle was broken by Uldred, but since Serenity walked back into his life, that shadow that was cast over him was giving way to the person he once was. He would never be the same after what happened, but he could still pick up some of the pieces of his past life, the ones worth keeping. He could not allow himself to think about her anymore though. Such a desire was forbidden and unattainable. He valued her friendship, but it also caused him so much pain to be so close to her.

Serenity wondered what he was thinking about, staring into the fire, lost in thought. She thought perhaps he might be wistfully accepting that a mabari was not in his future as a templar. "Cullen?"

"I... yes," he stammered, realizing he hadn't said a word after all that she had. He swallowed hard, trying to think of something other than his feelings for her so he could tell her what was on his mind. “I was just thinking about the first time we met. I remember wondering what I did to offend you.”

Serenity stifled a chuckle and said, “I only meant to keep you out of trouble with Ser Hadley.”

“I would thank you for saving me from latrine duty, but Ser Hadley saw right through your act,” he said, keeping his eyes on the fire to avoid looking at her. He could feel her smiling at the reminiscence.

It was nice being able to speak with her openly, without the worry of prying eyes or ears. Their conversations had always been kept brief in the Circle, sometimes even just a few words spoken in passing, but even then, they hadn’t gone unnoticed. Greagoir had discouraged him from paying her any attention, reminding him that if she should become an abomination, he could not hesitate to strike her down. He understood now why it was so important for the templars to maintain distance from their charges. He knew that when it came to her, he might hesitate. He might have failed. Would he fail now?

"I have something for you," Serenity said and reached around her neck to pull an amulet up over her head.

“For me…?” Cullen asked, surprised, and looked at her then as she held up the amulet. His heart pounded when she gestured for him to bow his head so she could slip it around his neck. He turned to face her as he accepted her gift, inwardly arguing with himself against it. _Is this…?_ He didn’t realize the value of it just upon looking at it, but he could feel its power when he wore it. He could see the subtle glow of lyrium deep within the crystal.

“Do you know what it is?” she asked, tracing the chain with her fingers as she set the amulet against his breastplate. She let her hand linger there, tracing the hilt of the sword engraved in the metal and looked up at him. “It’s called the Spellward.”

“Maker’s breath,” he murmured. He couldn’t accept such a gift. He had never seen one before, but he knew it by name. It was exceedingly rare and, he imagined, very expensive. Not even Knight-Commander Meredith was in possession of one, and if she learned he wore it, she would ask questions.

He could see Serenity sensed his hesitation and hoped he would not refuse her gift. Her hand still lingered on his breastplate, and he found his thoughts becoming muddled again with how closely she stood to him. How could he reject such a gift and hurt her again…?

“Thank you,” he said, swallowing hard. He would keep it hidden. “I-I’m sure it will aid me well in my duties.”

Serenity smiled, relieved he did not tell her how inappropriate it was for her to offer such a thing and withdrew her hand from him.

He held it up to closer examine it, having never seen one before. “Did Varric procure this for you?” he asked curiously.

“No. I found it in the Wonders of Thedas in Denerim,” she answered.

“You’ve been… holding onto this since you left Denerim?” he asked, feeling the heat not only on his cheeks but spreading through his whole body.

_She’s had this all that time?_

She really had crossed the Waking Sea just to find him. He had convinced himself his feelings were unrequited and nothing more than a shallow infatuation. But she was exactly how he remembered her—compassionate, forgiving, and quite possibly the most stubborn person he had ever met. She was so much more. She was so strong, so resilient, and still so kind. How could she still feel anything for him after how he had spoken to her at the Circle? How could she still want to see him even knowing how he changed? She had procured the amulet before even hearing his apology. It was more than he ever expected to receive. From anyone, let alone her.

“Longer, in fact,” she confessed and bit her lip. “I was afraid it wouldn't be there if I tried to go back for it. Would you like to try it out?”

 _Longer? For how long...?_

“'Try it out'?” Cullen considered her suggestion and balked, “You mean cast a spell on me?”

“Just a tiny one,” she said. “A little ice ball from my staff. I doubt you’ll even feel it.”

“That’s—” He chuckled, finding the idea preposterous, but he could tell she truly wanted to do it. And he knew she had no intention of harming him. “I don’t like spells being cast on me,” he said hesitantly as he tucked the Spellward behind his breastplate.

“I won’t do it without your consent.”

“Just a small one?” he asked and saw the smile she’d been subduing spread across her face. He sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck. “All right. Why do I have the feeling I’m going to regret this? You’re an experienced mage who felled an Archdemon. You do know your own strength, don’t you?”

Serenity tried to keep quiet as she laughed and picked up her staff to point the end at him. “I do,” she assured him and blasted a single ball of energetic ice at his breastplate.

He flinched, expecting worse. It didn’t hurt at all, leaving a thin layer of frost on his armor. He looked down to examine it. “Are you tricking me?” he asked. “Was that an illusion?”

“No. The Spellward works,” she said, sure it was complemented by his training, armor, and any latent abilities he possessed as a templar.

“I didn’t feel anything at all,” he said. “I don’t have a point of comparison, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Serenity turned her staff on Beau and fired the same blast of ice, rudely waking him.

“BLOODY HELL!” Beau shouted as he rolled over, rubbing his bum, and reached for his sword in a half-asleep daze.

“Serenity!” Cullen scolded her. Any doubts he had dissipated, replaced by utter shock.

She smiled sheepishly, hoping he wasn’t truly angry at her.

In spite of her assault on his recruit, Cullen’s reaction was not to reach for his sword. He remembered how bold and intrepid she was with those she trusted. Sometimes she allowed herself to become too comfortable with the templars, himself included. It had always put Ser Hadley and Knight-Commander Greagoir on edge, as though any time she was in one of her carefree moods, they had to be hypervigilant. He understood why they felt that way, but rather than fear that aspect of her personality, he admired it. Once, he had thought it innocence behind her familiarity and friendliness, but now he knew it was resilience. She was not blind to the strained relations between the mages and the templars, and she never had been.

Beau glowered, “Serenity? _You_ shot me?”

“I was only making a point,” she said, setting her staff back on the ground. “It didn’t hurt that badly, did it?”

“Yes! It did!” Beau argued. “It felt like you threw a frozen rock at me! And I was having a really good dream too!”

“I apologize,” she said earnestly, but she still had to subdue an amused smile. “It has nothing to do with my being an elf though, so don’t even think it.”

Cullen chuckled, “Beau, remember, you’re not to show weakness to the mages.”

“Figures you would take her side,” Beau grumbled under his breath, settling back down on his side—facing them this time.

Serenity wished that she could stay in Kirkwall longer, but she knew it was selfish to put Cullen at risk. She knew if she continued to try to see him, he could lose everything. There would be only resentment left for her then. She would come back. Maybe, she hoped, when she did, things could be different. Maybe she could hide her magic. Maybe she could stay. She didn't particularly care for Kirkwall, but the person she cared about most resided there. That was enough. 

"I have to leave Kirkwall soon," she said quietly. "On Warden business.”

“You do?” Cullen asked and tried to mask the disappointment he felt. It was better this way, he thought. He should have felt relieved. He felt anything but.

“I’ll come back after it’s finished.”

He thought if she stayed away, he could stop thinking about her. He could withdraw again and stem the tide of feelings that caused the hollow ache in his chest. But he knew that was a lie he told himself. He had never stopped thinking about her, whether it was with misguided anger or the forbidden feelings he tried to deny. He was able to bury some of his fondest memories, unlike the worst of them that plagued his dreams. Even though he would miss her, he couldn't encourage her to come back, not when it would put her in danger.

"It would be safer if you remain in Ferelden," he said.

"I'm a Grey Warden," she reminded him, sensing the reluctance in his voice. "I cannot be confined to the Circle.”

He knew she was right, but he felt no less assured. The Gallows were not like Kinloch Hold, and the Free Marches were nothing like Ferelden.

“If you do come back, I cannot continue to see you,” he said softly. “I hadn’t considered the repercussions of the Knight-Commander finding out about your helping me on this investigation. Grey Warden Commander or not, she would have questions.”

“I… I understand,” Serenity answered. She knew coming back and leaving would not be easy, but she couldn’t begin to think about never seeing him again. “I don’t think I have it in me to say goodbye.”

“You should get some rest,” he suggested, pained by the melancholy in her voice. “It’s only a few hours until morning light.”

He didn’t like pushing her away, knowing it hurt her as much as it did him. But it was just another pain he had to endure. It was his duty to endure it. 

  
Serenity wasn’t sure she could sleep, but she could feel him distancing himself from her already, putting his barriers up again. She settled down on her bedroll by the fire and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter ' In My Veins by Andrew Belle '


	8. A Waking Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity wakes up to find herself in the woods, away from their encampment, but Cullen followed her.

Serenity woke with a gasp, startled by the feeling of a hand shaking her shoulder. Her eyes shot open and she looked up to see a blond elf boy, no older than Connor was, kneeling down beside her.

"I need help, quickly! Follow me!" he pleaded, panicked, and darted across the campsite into the forest.

Without hesitation, Serenity bolted upright and sprinted after him. He was fast, despite his size, and she nearly lost him in the trees with every step he took. She was disoriented, unable to recognize her surroundings or remember where she was. It was still night and the campfire was still lit, though she gave that only a passing thought, more preoccupied with catching the boy.

"Wait!" she shouted.

"Help me!" his voice called out desperately in the distance, echoing and fading away.

Serenity slowed and tripped over the raised root of a tree, landing on her hands and knees. The child’s voice sounded different, changed like the echo of the ghost in the orphanage in the alienage of Denerim.

_Do you hear me Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem?_

_I am falling Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem, today._

_I'm a maiden Ser Wilhem. Ser Wilhem?_

_But I'm dying Ser Wilhem, Ser Wilhem. In pain._

She realized as the memory unfolded that she was in the Fade. She looked up and watched as the illusion burned away like a paper room by an invisible flame, revealing the familiar surreal land she knew. She could still see the ethereal image of the boy running in the distance. She followed him through the winding paths, occasionally glancing up into the sky at the Black City in the distance.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Are you Mouse, playing with me again?”

Her feet hurt, her hands were sore, and her ears were burning from the biting wind. She looked around, surprised to find herself surrounded by trees and darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of light and followed it, surprised to see the boy's spirit from the Fade kneeling down beside a tree.

_Am I awake?_

"Mama!" he cried.

_You are not Pride,_ she thought, relieved. But he did appear to be a lost spirit and not just an echo of a memory reflected by the Fade.

There was a tomb by the tree with wards on it. She knew that it trapped a demon or revenant, but she had no intention of disturbing it now. She was lost and tired and unequipped for battle. When the spirit dissipated, she was left only with the sound of her breathing in the silent wood. “I cannot help you, child,” she said gently and looked around, hoping to find her footprints in the soil. 

_This isn’t the Fade. It’s too real._

She was surprised Mabari-Cullen hadn’t chased her down and nipped at her heels to wake her, but he didn’t sleep as lightly as he did when they heard the call of the Archdemon. She wasn’t sure her dog bore the taint until she realized he felt the same relief as she and Alistair did when the Archdemon was slain.

“Serenity?” Cullen called out, making his way through the trees, carrying his sword and shield.

“Cullen!” Serenity called back and followed the sound of his voice. She stepped over the root of the tree that had tripped her and stopped when she saw him.

“What happened?” he asked warily. He hadn’t considered what might lay dormant at the blood mage’s camp, but when he saw Serenity run, with no sign of slowing as he called after her, he thought she might have been possessed. A demon could have lain in wait for her to sleep, to creep into her dreams.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, taking a tentative step closer, hoping he would put his sword away. She stopped when he took a step back. “I had a dream.”

“What kind of dream?” he asked, keeping his distance from her.

“A child asked me for help,” she said, wringing her hands nervously. “I followed him and realized I was in the Fade. But I woke up here. This has… never happened before.”

Cullen realized she might have felt threatened by him and sheathed his sword as he set his shield against a tree. “It sounds like you were sleep walking,” he said. “But you were running.”

“Sleep walking?” Serenity asked, surprised he knew what it was that she was doing. She had never seen anything like it, let alone experienced it herself.

“My little sister had the habit,” he said quietly. “It was worrisome at first, but the doctors said it wasn’t a sign of possession.”

“I’m not possessed,” she assured him. “I was prepared to kill that child in the Fade if I thought it was a demon.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to her, noticing the dirt on her hands and knees. “Are you all right?”

“I’m… I’m fine,” she answered, noticing the gentle sound of concern in his voice. It made her stomach flutter, even half-asleep. “Could you tell me more about sleep walking?”

“There was an apprentice at the Ferelden Circle who would sleep walk,” he said. “It made the templars uneasy because they thought the child might be possessed. Fortunately, they were always able to wake the child, but they never trusted him. They waited with their swords drawn, expecting him to become an abomination.”

“I never used to have dreams like this. Becoming a Grey Warden came with its own weird nightmares, but this is different. Like a waking dream. I see them sometimes, usually after a drought of lyrium,” she said. “Just glimpses, like flashes, of the Fade.”

“You did drink a potent lyrium potion earlier,” he recalled.

“Do you have vivid dreams?” she asked.

“Me?” He wondered what made her ask, whether it was just a curiosity about him personally or if she knew about the templars’ dependence on lyrium.

“Alistair was a templar-recruit before he was a Warden or King,” she said, confirming his suspicion. “He answered all of my questions, and you know how curious I am about your order.”

“Then… you know,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” she said apologetically. She had seen firsthand what it could do, either through long term use or withdrawal. She dreaded to think about how it might make him feel, even now.

“When I first took my vows. For the first two weeks, I had strange and vivid dreams. Memories of home, mostly, but sometimes they just didn’t make any sense. The dreams stopped after that,” Cullen said. “Until what happened.”

“You still have nightmares?”

“More often than not,” he admitted. “I can still see it and smell it… hear it and feel it. The pain of fatigue and starvation and fear. As often as I have them, it’s not as bad as it was living there.”

“Cullen…” Serenity reached out to touch him, to comfort him, but he took a step back, just out of reach.

“With time, my Knight-Commander says, the night terrors will come less,” he said, turning away from her to retrieve his shield. “We should go back.”

“I don’t remember many of my dreams before my Harrowing,” Serenity said, following him back through the trees, relieved he knew from which way they came. “I know I had them and sometimes I remembered them when I woke. I’ve dreamt about Duncan, but after facing the Sloth demon in the Circle, I cannot trust him when I see him anymore.”

“You mentioned Duncan earlier,” Cullen said, slowing to walk beside her. “Can you tell me more about him?”

“He was patient and kind with me. He saw my choice to help Jowan differently than anybody else did. He saw my loyalty. I know what I did broke the Chantry’s laws, but he saw my potential… not just as a mage but as a Grey Warden. He gave me the opportunity for redemption.”

“I am glad he did.”

“During the Blight, I strived to be like him, calm in the face of adversity and focused on the task at hand. He told me the Grey Wardens exist for one purpose—to end the Blight. He said we sometimes had to make hard decisions for the greater good,” she said. “I didn’t understand for a long time what he meant when he said being a Grey Warden is a calling and a sacrifice. I do now. I still try to hold myself to his standard. He gave me another chance, not only to live, but to be better and to affect change. When I recruit Wardens, I remember how he looked at me, and I try to see others how he saw me. Able to change, if they’re willing. Duncan helped me to discover a strength within myself I didn’t know I had and a sense of unshakeable duty I… perhaps wished I had before I met him.”

“Your dedication to your order is commendable,” Cullen said, although he too questioned some of her order’s rules and standards. She was proof enough that people could be more than their mistakes. It was hard not to think from the perspective of the Chantry’s teachings, but he was glad fate intervened and saw that she lived to make the world a better, brighter place.

“Have you heard of the Legion of the Dead?” she asked.

“I have read about them,” he answered. “Although I can’t say I am very familiar with Orzammar’s politics, I have studied their military structure. I know they are one of the most formidable branches of the Dwarven military.”

“They remind me of the Grey Wardens,” she said. “They accept all who wish to join and give up their past lives, holding funerals for their recruits when they join. They spend the rest of their lives pushing back the darkspawn in the Deep Roads. I… kind of felt like I died that day at the Circle. Everything changed when Duncan took me away. I wish I had more time with him. It mattered to me that he knew it wasn’t a mistake conscripting me.”

“He knew,” Cullen assured her. “I didn’t know anything about the Grey Wardens or the right of conscription until he took you away from the Circle. You were a very popular topic of conversation after that. Knight-Commander Greagoir was in a mood for at least a week.”

“What did you think?” she asked, slowing her pace so they wouldn’t arrive back at camp too quickly. She cherished every minute she had alone with him, and she knew their time was running out.

“I…” Cullen sighed and looked down at her. “I was disappointed. But I was relieved, too. I loathed to think of you in Aeonar. Or… made Tranquil.”

“What do you know about Aeonar?” Serenity asked. 

“The Chantry keeps a tight lid on what goes on there,” he said. “It isn’t common knowledge among the templars, but Knight-Commander Meredith told me they torture suspected blood mages. Those that are confirmed to be maleficar are executed and those that aren’t are made Tranquil. Anyone else within the prison is kept in seclusion.”

“Maker have mercy,” Serenity muttered. “If Duncan hadn’t saved me, I believe Greagoir would have made me Tranquil, if not sent me there. I try not to consider that when I see him now. I knew I would be punished when I helped Jowan, but… I would rather have been executed by sword than the brand.”

  
Cullen knew Meredith thought the methods with which Aeonar kept its prisoners under control were effective, though she didn’t _officially_ condone the torture of mages. Wielding the brand, however, was an acceptable form of punishment and precaution to her standard. The threat of Tranquility kept the mages in line, but it was unsettling.

He was ashamed to admit even to himself that Tranquility once gave him a sense of calm, knowing the mage no longer posed a threat. But he knew the mages feared it and considered it worse than death.

“I prefer not to think of what could have happened,” Cullen said. “You are the Commander of the Grey Wardens now.”

“I’m going to come back, you know.” Serenity stopped as they reached the camp and put her hand on his gauntlet. “Unless you tell me you never want to see me again.”

“I…” Cullen looked at her and felt whatever will he thought he possessed to push her away leave him. “Never is an awfully long time.”

Serenity smiled and said, “It will take some time. I’ll be chasing a Witch of the Wilds all over Ferelden, I’m guessing. I’ve thought about traveling to the Anderfels to see Weisshaupt, but I’m still bitter about the Constable-Warden they sent to watch over Vigil’s Keep while I was away. I may seek out Leliana in Orlais and visit the Circle in Montsimmard. Did you know the First Enchanter there was a Grey Warden?”

“No, I didn’t,” he answered. It surprised him still that she would willingly visit a Circle, even one in Orlais. But it pleased him that she spoke so easily and openly with him about her plans. 

Beau yawned and stretched as he sat up. “Is it morning already?”

Serenity sighed, disappointed that the sun was already rising. “I supposed we should start walking.”

“Did either of you sleep at all?” Beau asked.

“I slept a little bit,” Serenity said and looked over at Cullen, wondering if he was tired or so used to insomnia that it didn’t faze him.

“Why is there dirt all over your knees?” Beau grinned, insinuating something naughty.

“What?” Serenity asked and looked down. “By the Maker, I will freeze your britches if you’re suggesting—”

“You must enjoy chantry duty,” Cullen said, crossing his arms.

“I’m just kidding! It’s none of my business!” Beau said and jumped out of his bedroll.

Serenity smiled, finding Cullen’s reminder of his rank and the threat of harmless punishment both endearing and amusing. “Beau, I’ll be boarding a ship to Ferelden in the next few days. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

“It’s something to consider,” Cullen said. “If you decline her invitation, you’ll pretend you’ve never seen her.”

“Oh, uh… I’ll think about it,” Beau answered, scratching the back of his head.

“We could use a Warden with a templar’s training,” Serenity said. “I needed to see how you would react to fighting beside me. I wouldn’t have asked you to come if you had been watching me like I might turn on you. Some still think as a templar first and a Warden second, but it causes tension within the ranks.”

“I understand.”


	9. The Recruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau joins Serenity on the ship to Ferelden and survives the Joining to find she has devised a punishment more awful than guarding the chantry.

When Serenity went to the docks with Mabari-Cullen to return to Ferelden, she was surprised to find Beau waiting there for her. She had chosen to be forthcoming about the risks involved in the Joining. Duncan had explained the need for secrecy to her and at the time she understood it, but this wasn’t a conscription and there wasn’t a Blight or the looming threat of an Archdemon. If the circumstances were different, she might have withheld the truth of the danger. But she didn’t feel right about keeping it from him.

Beau chose the Grey Wardens in spite of her warning, and she knew she made the right choice—both in recruiting him and telling him. He would risk his life for the order. Had she kept the truth from him, he might only have resented her and their oath. 

It was a long voyage across the Waking Sea, but that gave Beau some time to pester his new Commander. She had set the tone for their professional relationship, after all. 

“So, you and the Knight-Captain, huh? How’d that happen?” he asked. 

“We lived in the Circle together for over a year,” Serenity answered. 

“So? Mages and templars living together is nothing new. But they never get along, not that well.” 

“I wouldn't say never,” Serenity mumbled. 

“You're the exception to the rule,” he said pointedly. 

“I'm not the only one,” she said knowingly. 

“You say that like you mean it. Do you actually know a mage involved with a templar?” 

“There was one, a long time ago,” Serenity answered, thinking about Wynne. She wondered how she was doing and whether she would ever make the journey to Orlais to meet her son--or if she already had. “Such cases are swept under the rug. I doubt she was the first or the last.” 

“From the same Circle?” he asked. “Maybe it's something about you Fereldens. That would never happen in Kirkwall.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“So, how much of the rumors were true? I can't imagine the Knight-Captain doing half of what people say he did.” 

“I’m afraid to ask,” Serenity chuckled. She had had to bite her tongue on her last visit to the Circle, upon hearing apprentices whisper of Cullen going stark raving mad and killing apprentices before fleeing the Circle. She knew it was more likely that those apprentices rumored dead had simply been taken upstairs for their Harrowing. 

“Somebody heard Cullen had a thing for a mage from his old Circle. Some even say he was 'madly in love' with her and that that was why he was transferred, to prevent him from breaking Chantry law and to keep him focused on his duties,” Beau answered. “Others go so far as to say they had a bastard child together and he helped smuggle the mage out.” 

Serenity shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I remember how outlandish rumors could become. Cullen and I were only ever friends—and he would deny even that.” 

“I might have been asleep most of the night, but I still saw the little looks you gave each other. It couldn’t be more obvious,” Beau scoffed. “I think it’s a good thing though. Honestly, I’d never seen Cullen smile before.” 

“You… really?” Serenity knew Cullen had a hard time coping with what occurred in Ferelden, but she thought he would still find camaraderie with the templars in Kirkwall. Just because a recruit hadn’t seen him smile didn’t mean he never smiled at all, she thought. 

“He can be a little overbearing,” Beau said. “Right now he’s concerned with the Mage Underground. He seems to think Kirkwall has it worse than Ferelden. I didn’t think anywhere had it as bad as Ferelden. I mean, considering what happened there. They nearly had to annul the Circle, didn’t they?” 

“It was bad. But there were still people that could be saved," Serenity said. "What is this Mage Underground?” 

“It’s a network of civilians helping apostates escape the Circle,” Beau answered. “I guess he wouldn’t have any reason to mention that to you. He was encouraging the Knight-Commander to crack down on them because they were operating so well that the apostates were getting away. Ordinarily, when we’re tracking escaped mages, we capture them in the Free Marches and return them to the Circle. But these Underground people are getting them out—some as far as Antiva and Nevarra.” 

“I’ve never heard of people trying to help mages escape the Circle,” Serenity said. “Not organized, at least.” 

“That’s what he said,” Beau shrugged. “I can’t really say it surprises me though. I’d hate to be a mage in the Gallows.” 

“Would you ever help a mage escape?” Serenity asked. 

“What? No! I just… I can see how one might feel sorry for them,” he said. 

Serenity sighed, wondering how Cullen intended to prevent the mages’ escape attempts. Who would he be cracking down on? The townspeople? Or the mages in his care? 

“Sorry,” Beau said. “I didn’t spoil it, did I?” 

“Spoil what?” Serenity asked. 

“What you think you know about the Knight-Captain,” Beau answered. “He can be…” 

“Cruel?” she asked, feeling her heart sink. Was there any weight to the rumors of his madness? She had seen it with her own eyes in the Circle when he acted out of fear and insisted on the right of annulment. At the time, the scars on his psyche were still fresh, but could they run that deeply? 

“Hard,” Beau answered, choosing the word carefully. “He tries to be fair. He doesn’t go beyond what’s necessary or take joy in it. He knows most mages won’t fight back when they’re caught. But he doesn’t give them an inch.” 

Serenity breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that much already. “Thank you for telling me about the Circle in Kirkwall,” she said. “I care deeply for Cullen, but I understand there are limits to what we can have. Duty keeps us apart. You’ll keep what you think you saw to yourself.” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” Beau droned.  


  


Before arriving at Vigil's Keep, Serenity accompanied Beau into the Deep Roads. It was his second test--to kill a darkspawn and gather a vial of its blood for the Joining. She hadn't administered this particular test to her other recruits, either because they had faced darkspawn already or she had just deemed them ready to take the plunge. But Beau she wanted to come face to face with the darkspawn before dedicating himself to the order. She was giving him a chance to back out, not a chance she gave to many.

When they arrived at Vigil’s Keep, Serenity held the goblet for Beau and administered his Joining. While she waited for him to wake, she caught up with Nathaniel, relieved to hear he had received notice from the Chamberlain that they accepted her terms. She promoted Nathaniel to Constable-Warden at Vigil’s Keep and wrote another letter to Weisshaupt saying as much. She hadn’t expected to form such a bond with Rendon Howe’s son, but she was grateful she did. He was _home_ , restoring honor to his family’s name. 

When Beau woke up, he learned Serenity already had a mission for him. At first he thought she was pulling his leg, but the smug smile on her face said otherwise. Drinking the poison wasn’t enough. She was sending him all by himself into Dalish territory. He scarcely had a chance to settle in or make the acquaintance of his fellow Wardens before he left Vigil’s Keep. He at least had Serenity’s company some of the way, but they parted ways at the Drakon River near South Reach. She followed the West Road south west, and he had to continue east into the Brecilian Forest alone. 

* * *

  


It was a long walk and uncomfortably quiet. Even on those days stationed in front of the chantry, he at least had barracks to go back to to talk to people. He was almost relieved when he found the Dalish camp. His relief was short lived though and replaced by his resentment of elves when he was met with the scouts’ wary glares at the entrance to their clan's encampment. 

“Andaran atish’an, outsider,” the hunter, Mithra, greeted him warily. She could see he was armed. “We do not want trouble from your kind. Please, return from whence you came.” 

“I have been sent by the Warden-Commander to meet with your leader—um, Keeper,” Beau said uneasily. His eyes flitted between the hunters and the scouts in the distance, and he had to resist the urge to rest his hand on his sword. 

Mithra exchanged a look with the other hunter and nodded, “Follow me.” She led him deep into the camp to meet with their Keeper, Lanaya. “This human claims to be sent by the Grey Wardens.” 

Lanaya looked up thoughtfully and asked, “Are you a Grey Warden too?” 

“Yes,” Beau answered hesitantly, noticing the emphasis Mithra put on _human_. “I’m a new recruit. Serenity wanted me to meet with you.” 

Lanaya dismissed Mithra and looked up at Beau. “How is she? She visited once after the battle at Denerim. I imagine she is very busy rebuilding your order.” 

“She’s on a mission of her own,” he answered and looked around, taking note of the position of all their scouts and archers. “She spoke highly of you before sending me out here.” 

“Be at ease, Warden. You are safe here,” she assured him, aware of his obvious anxiety. 

“You’ll have to forgive me. I have my reasons, and I imagine it’s why she sent me here." 

“Before Serenity helped our clan, we turned all outsiders away, human or otherwise. Our relationship with the humans has improved since the Blight. They recognize our sacrifice,” she said, “but we are not without hostilities still.” 

“She did give me a rather lengthy history lesson on the Dalish and what was done to your people,” he said and gave Mithra a sidelong glance. “I wouldn't be surprised if… you killed humans on sight.” 

“We are not murderers. Acting out in such a way would serve no purpose but to cause more animosity between our kind and the humans. We want peace and the freedom to retain our culture and worship the Creators. We do this by isolating ourselves.” 

“You might want to bring this up the next time your kind gathers together. The elves in the Free Marches don't seem to see things the same way,” he said bitterly. 

“The Dalish are spread all over Thedas, and we only meet once every ten years. Every clan is different. Is it much different in the Free Marches?” she asked curiously. 

“The elves are a lot less hospitable there," he answered. "They would kill you as soon as talk to you, but I'm trying to learn to remember that not all of you are the same as the elves that murdered my family.” 

“Humans are capable of the same violence, even against their own kind. I have seen it.” 

“That’s true,” he muttered. “I've seen a lot of evil committed while living in Kirkwall. That’s partly why I joined the Wardens. But I cannot forgive the clan that attacked my family and left me with nothing.” 

“I understand your pain,” she said empathetically. 

“Do you?” he asked, not intending the venom that seeped into his voice. “I am curious to find out how much one can know when they are isolated in a forest away from the rest of civilization.” 

“I was not born to this clan. I grew up living amongst humans,” she answered without malice. 

“Oh.” 

“My parents were the servants of a merchant whose caravans plied the southern routes. A group of bandits killed him and my parents both. I was the only survivor, still but a child, and the bandits took me to keep me as their… servant,” she said, choosing the word carefully. “It took many years of reflection for me to come to terms with it, to put them in perspective.” 

He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his own hostility, and said, “If I may ask, how did you become Keeper of this clan? I thought elves were very… traditional.” 

“Zathrian was this clan's Keeper before I. When the bandits killed one of his clan's scouts passing too close to their camp, he sought out the killers. He tracked them for nearly a month,” she said and smiled, remembering her rescuer fondly. “I sat there and watched and reveled in their slaughter. When he saw me, he took pity on me and took me back to the clan, and I have been here ever since. Becoming Zathrian's First was difficult. As you said, the Dalish have old traditions. I am not considered the purest of blood, like the other Keepers, so I had to compete against the other candidates for First, to be better than them in everything, simply because I was not of the old blood.” 

“How were you able to let go of your hatred?” 

“With time and reflection. It did not come easy.” 

"It's been years since I lost my family," Beau answered quietly. "I know what Serenity meant for me coming here, but I'll never forgive them. Whenever I reflect on what happened, I just feel angry."

It was so long ago that a lot of it was a blur now. He remembered his father shouting. He remembered the hiss of arrows. He could see the painted faces of the elves, but he couldn't remember how many. His mother held his hand. She screamed. He ran. There was cover in the trees, but it was so far away. He ran into the creek and he slipped on the rocks. He chose to run upstream instead of down so that he could hide in the underbrush. He never saw his mother or father again. He waited long past nightfall, long past the voices receded before he went back to find them. They were gone. 

"You do not have to forgive them," she said. "But you can release the power they hold over you. The fear, the anger. I hope one day you are free of them." 

“When I first met Serenity, I threatened to cut out her tongue,” he said. “I’ve only just started down this path, but knowing my family’s murderers never received retribution makes it harder to let go. It was senseless violence.” 

“You have come a long way already,” she said. “May I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“When I met Serenity, I asked her the same thing, but she was an elf from the Circle, and she could only tell me, ‘Not all humans are the same.’ I'm afraid it's done little to sate my curiosity. I would rather hear the opinion of a human,” she said. “Do your kind ever regret what they've done to the Dalish? Or do they mostly still see us as savages?” 

“You're asking the wrong guy," he chuckled ruefully. "I mean... up until a month or so ago, I thought you were all savages. I'm sure there are a lot more humans out there without a bloody history with your kind to paint that picture. But the more I learn about your history, I regret the wrongs that were done to your people.” 

Lanaya was pleased to hear an honest answer. “Thank you. Please, join us at the fire and listen to our stories.” 

Beau followed the Keeper to where many of the clan were gathered, and he sat in silence, listening to the tales of the clan. They told the stories of Dirthamen and Falon’din, Iloren, Sylaise, and Ghilan’nain. As twilight grew near, the hunters returned to camp with food, and they shared their feast around the fire. After finishing their meal, the elves dispersed, returning to work or getting ready for respite. But Lanaya continued to sit with Beau at the fire. 

She looked up at him and asked, “What do you think?” 

“I think there is a lot about your people I need to learn,” he admitted. He couldn’t help finding comfort in her countenance. Unlike the hunters in her clan or the brash elves in the alienage, she had a gentleness to her. He didn’t feel threatened by her at all, not even when he first arrived. He could see why Serenity spoke so highly of her. 

“And what about you, Warden? I would like to learn more about you.” 

“I'm a former templar from Kirkwall, but I felt I could better serve people outside of the order.” 

“Oh, I see... I hope I do not make you uncomfortable, then.” 

“Because you're a mage or because you're an elf?” he smirked. 

“I understand your mistrust. But I hope you will spend the night in camp.” 

“I will. I suspect that mistrust is exactly the reason I was sent here as my first duty.” 

“Come, I will show you to your tent,” she offered and led him across camp to a tent made of tanned hides erected near her own. “If you need anything, Cammen will be keeping watch by the fire pit.” 

“Thank you.”  


* * *

  


When morning came, Beau roused to the sound of frantic voices and the rallying cries of hunters. He quickly donned his light armor and stepped out into the morning light. The Keeper stood outside her tent nearby. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, running a hand through his tousled hair. 

“The last few weeks we’ve had attacks on our halla from a band of human hunters,” Lanaya answered. 

Mithra, standing nearby, curled her lip and said, “They’re good at covering their tracks. We’ve been trying to catch up with them, but we end up chasing them in circles. This is the third time they’ve entered our forest and killed the halla.” 

“Are you sure they’re human?” Beau asked. 

Insulted, Mithra spat, “Of course they're humans! Only humans would seek to destroy our—“ 

Lanaya held up her hand to silence her and said, “Be at ease, Mithra.” 

Mithra respectfully backed down and begrudgingly said, “I will return to my post.” 

Lanaya continued, “One of our hunters saw a man cutting the horn off a dead halla. When our hunter approached, the man turned on him and shot him with an arrow.” 

After hearing their stories the night before, Beau could at least understand how the animals were considered sacred. “He was hunting for sport and not for food? They have to have a camp nearby. Maybe I could talk to them if we can find them,” he suggested. 

Lanaya was not sure if he was more intent on helping her clan or protecting the humans, but she would not refuse his help. “I cannot say for what purpose they were hunting, but we do not eat the halla, nor do we allow others to. He took the halla's horn, which is imbued with powers not found elsewhere on this earth. As you know,” she said, glancing down at the amulet around his neck meaningfully. “The Dalish carve the horns of the halla, but we do not take what they do not give willingly. Perhaps the hunters would be more likely to speak with you, considering you are human. However, we still have yet to find them.” 

Thinking the Dalish would kill the human trespassers if he didn’t intervene, Beau said, “I will help you look for them and resolve this situation.” 

“Your help is appreciated, Warden,” Lanaya said and looked over to Mithra, who had been watching them from her post. She waved her over and looked up at Beau, “If you would, please allow Mithra to accompany you. The forest is vast, and she can help you find your way back.” 

He knew he would be useless on his own in the forest, being unfamiliar with the area, so he nodded, “Okay, but if she would… please remember we're not looking to kill the humans without talking to them first.” 

Mithra scowled, “I am not a savage like the man who shot my clansman!” 

“Mithra,” Lanaya said gently, soothing her with her voice. “Make sure no harm comes to the Warden.” 

She looked up to her Keeper, calming herself. Reluctantly, she conceded, “As you say.” She walked past Beau and said, “Let us go. We are wasting time.” 

  


As they entered the forest, Beau walked beside her, “You said there were three dead halla?” 

“Yes,” she answered, casting him a sidelong glance. “Why?” 

“Where about in proximity to each other were they found?” 

“The first was found near the Great Oak, the second by the waterfall, and the third deep inside the northern part of the forest. They are spread out; there is no pattern.” 

“But your hunters are searching around the northern area, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then, we should check near the Great Oak. That would be closest to their camp.” 

“They do not have a camp in our forest, and if they did, it would have moved,” she sighed impatiently. “We searched and tracked them in circles.” 

Beau frowned, “Then, what would you have us do? Join the others?” 

“No, but…” she sighed. She felt they were wasting their time, but they would only be in the way of the hunters searching the northern forest. “Follow me. I will show you to the Great Oak.” 

As she led him through the forest, she cast him suspicious sidelong glances. She was not subtle, and he could see her out of the corner of his eye, though he tried to ignore it at first. Finally, he asked, “You don’t trust me, do you?” 

“Not at all. Lanaya is too trusting of you, Warden. But I know you do not like us. I hear it in your voice, and I see it in every expression, every movement. I would think you do not even try to hide your disdain for us,” she said and looked away from him, her eyes scanning the trees. “And I think you intend to help the humans escape unpunished. I will not defy my Keeper, but I will serve as her eyes and ears.” 

He walked beside her, looking down at her, though she kept her eyes ahead. “It's true I do not fully trust elves... and it's true I am trying to avoid deaths over a possible misunderstanding,” he said and stopped. She turned to face him when he no longer walked beside her. “But never question my honor. I am here to help your people as well as seek the answers I need as to why I should trust the elvhen.” 

She scrutinized him and continued through the trees. “This way.” She led him down a winding path until they reached a grassy area where the first halla had been killed. “Watch your step. Do not wake the trees,” she warned. 

“Are they going to smother me with leaves if I do?” he asked, stepping carefully despite his sarcasm. 

Mithra smirked, “And snap your neck with their branches, maybe.” 

“I can’t tell if you mean that literally,” he said. 

“This is it,” she said, stopping, and pointed. “We followed their tracks north east, but they disappeared not a mile out. There were also misleading tracks leading north, but we suspect they were only a decoy. They were made to look clumsy.” 

“Let’s go north east,” he said. 

She withheld a sigh and led him in the direction they had tracked the human hunters. She remembered where the trail ended by the mushrooms growing at the base of a tree nearby. She stopped and looked up at him expectantly but turned at the sound of a snapping twig to her left. Her bow was raised in a heartbeat, taking aim in that direction. She caught a glimpse of white and lowered her weapon, recognizing a halla between the trees. “Look.” 

He followed her gaze and looked upon the halla in the distance, its coat gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the trees. It was a magnificent creature, its horns uniquely and intricately interwoven. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “I read that they help carry your aravels, but I didn’t see any in your camp.” 

“Kallin cares for our halla down the mountain path from the main camp. If you were not so frightened of straying from the Keeper's side, you might have seen them. Or perhaps you are just timid?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

Flustered, Beau retorted, “I’m neither. I’m just…” he searched for an excuse, “not the outdoorsy type. I need time to adjust before I’m comfortable.” 

“Funny, by the way you looked when you arrived, I would have thought you spent many nights outdoors. And by the smell, without a bath,” she grinned. 

“Well, I’ve been traveling on foot for some time with no chance to clean up. Give me twenty minutes, and you won't be able to keep your nose away from me,” he said and cringed at how stupid the words that came out of his mouth sounded. Perhaps there was something to Cullen’s advice. 

‘Keep your nose away’? he inwardly repeated. 

Mithra cocked an eyebrow and said, “You are a very strange human.” 

He sighed, “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. Even from other humans.” 

She led him to the eastern mountainside, where a steep cliff rose up out of the ground. “There is a cavern leading into the mountainside, but we already looked inside. All we found were spiders, and no sign of any other life.” 

“Are there any others besides that one?” 

“No,” she answered shortly, following the cliffside north east. 

He wasn’t sure where to go from there or what possible clue they could have left behind. Perhaps offering to help truly was a waste of time, and their band had already left the forest. After walking for minutes in complete silence, Beau said, “So, do you often go on long walks with handsome young elf guys?” 

“Do I… what? What kind of question is that?” 

“I imagine you need stuff to do in your down time when you're not firing arrows at humans. I read and practice my swordsmanship. See? Now, your turn.” 

“I draw. And practice my archery…” she scoffed and she cast him a grave and threatening look, “on humans.” 

Beau stopped, his mouth agape, and pointed, “I fucking knew it!” 

Mithra whipped her head around at him, surprised by his exclamation, and snorted with a grin, “Are all humans so gullible? No, just you? I thought so.” 

“Your face is gullible,” Beau muttered. He _was_ gullible if Serenity had anything to say about it, but he would never admit to that either. 

“You are worse than a child!” 

“A child with a big sword,” he said, grasping the hilt at his back. “Think about _that_!” After saying it, he realized that too sounded different than he'd intended. He looked up ahead and pointed, changing the subject before she could retort, “Did you check out that cave too?” 

She stopped dead in her tracks, halting him. “That is a bear den. I did not mean to come so close to it, but you distracted me.” 

“I don’t see any bears,” he said, trying to peer into the cave from a distance. 

“Then, they are probably out looking for lunch. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be their next snack.” 

“Fine, lead the way.” 

She hesitated. 

“What?” he asked. 

She took a few cautious steps closer for a better look. Still, she was troubled by what she saw. “It’s not the same. There should be a bed of grass and brush for the cubs to lay on, but I see nothing… and I smell nothing.” She nudged the back of his shoulder with her hand and said, “Go take a closer look.” 

“Right, so you can get your jollies watching a human get savagely mauled by a den full of angry bears.” 

She cracked a smile and said, “You were just bragging about your big sword. Go on, then.” She drew her bow and arrow. “I'll be right behind you.” 

“Bears in front of me and a human-hating elf with a bow and arrow behind me. Why do I not feel this is going to end well?” he said, drawing his sword. 

He stepped inside the cave, ducking his head, and stopped when he heard the faint sound of two men talking. He gestured silently to Mithra, holding two fingers up, then opened and closed his hand, mimicking a mouth talking. She raised an eyebrow and walked over to the mouth of the cave, alert to the sounds and motions of the forest around her. She was surprised at how deep the cave went, not like a bear’s den at all. 

“Stay here,” Beau whispered and slowly turned the corner to sneak up behind a rock. He saw two men playing cards without any ranged weaponry nearby and overheard their conversation. The younger one’s name was Alfred and the older one was Barts. 

_Here goes nothin’,_ Beau thought. Time to take the diplomatic approach. If he left them in Mithra’s hands, he knew they were as good as dead. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” he greeted them, holding his great sword casually over his shoulder. “I’m just here to talk.” 

The men stood up to face him, startled by his sudden intrusion on their game. “Who are you?” Alfred asked. 

“I'm a Grey Warden,” Beau answered, hoping the title alone would be enough to intimidate them. What wasn’t intimidating about Grey Wardens? They fought darkspawn. Nothing was scarier than a darkspawn. Especially the shrieks Serenity spoke about. Not that he'd met one of those yet. But an elven darkspawn? _No, thank you._ “Do you know anything about the dead halla?” 

The men exchanged glances, and Barts answered, “Ah, no, haven't heard a thing...” 

“You don’t have to lie,” Beau said. “I’m on your side in this.” 

Mithra hoped it was a ruse, but even so, it pissed her off to hear him say it. 

“Well…” Alfred hesitated. “Are you really a Grey Warden?” 

“Yes, of course I am. Don't I look it?” Beau asked and pointed to the griffon crest on his breastplate. “See that? I'm official.” 

“What's a Grey Warden want with the halla?” Barts asked. 

Alfred shrugged, “Probably needs the money. Grey Wardens are a little out of work now that the Blight is over, huh?” 

“Uh, no,” Beau answered. “The Grey Wardens are allied with the elves. I don't know if you’re aware, but the halla is a sacred animal to them. It would really help matters if you didn't hunt them.” 

“Oh,” Alfred said and looked to Barts. “Did you know the elves worship reindeer?” 

“Nope, I had no idea. But I didn't think the heathens worshipped anything.” 

Beau set the point of his sword on the ground and rested his hands on the pommel. “I don't appreciate your attitude in this matter. I'm only going to warn you once. Leave this forest in peace or we're going to have a problem.” 

Alfred raised his hands up and said, “All right, all right. We'll go. We don't want to cross the Grey Wardens, right, Barts?” 

“Yeah, we don't want any trouble. We'll leave.” 

Beau grinned, feeling pleased with himself for handling the situation without bloodshed. He was looking forward to bragging about it to Serenity. 

“How can you just let them go?” Mithra scowled. “You are spineless, Warden!” 

Beau winced and remembered the hothead he had with him. “Hey! I’m not spineless! They said they would leave. They haven't killed any of your clan. We can't just outright murder them.” 

“The halla are our companions! And they didn't succeed in killing my clansman, but they tried!” she reminded him. “The arrow that pierced Soren only just missed his heart!” 

“He has an elf with him,” Alfred said, putting his hand on his dagger. 

Barts sighed, “Will you keep your elf on a leash so we can pass?” 

“Hey, don't talk about her like that,” Beau warned him. He had forgotten about the hunter that took an arrow from them. “It is in their right to see to your justice, especially since you attempted to kill one of theirs.” 

“That elf threatened us! We were only defending ourselves!” Alfred shouted. 

“Oh, well, I guess that makes it all better,” Beau said. “You're free to go.” 

“Really?" 

“No! You still need to face a trial for your actions,” he said. “Their Keeper is fair. You might not die.” 

“Might not--?” Barts balked. “The elves would have us slain! No, absolutely not! We'll not be thrown to the wolves!” 

_So much for diplomacy,_ Beau inwardly lamented. Bragging rights lost. 

The men drew their swords and tried to fight their way out, but Mithra drew her knives and Beau his great sword. The men didn’t stand a chance in the ensuing fight, but they were smart enough to surrender before losing their lives. 

“We give up!” Alfred cried. “Don’t kill me!” 

“We're taking you back to the camp,” Beau said, “and if they decide to let you go free, then so be it.” 

Mithra inspected a sack on the ground, saddened to the see the collected horns. “They've killed more than we knew.” She stood up and pointed her dagger at Barts. “Where are the hallas’ bodies?” 

“Just over the ridge by the water, not far from here,” he answered. “We just wanted the horns.” 

“And you call _us_ heathens!” Mithra growled. She tied the sack closed and hoisted it over her shoulder. “I will take these to the Keeper.” 

“Get moving,” Beau ordered, giving the poacher a push on his back. 

Outside, another poacher was waiting, having seen the Dalish discover their camp. He drew his bow and loosed an arrow when Mithra emerged from the cave with the poachers’ spoils. 

Mithra dropped the sack when she was struck in the abdomen and swiftly drew her own bow, scanning the trees. She ducked as another arrow flew towards her and loosed an arrow in the direction of her assailant. “Fenedhis lasa!” 

“Don’t you move!” Beau warned the poachers as he ran out to catch up to Mithra. “What the—you’ve been shot!” 

“I think I got their ranger, but there could be others,” she said, holding her side. She could feel her blood running down her side and pooling at her foot. 

“Stay here,” Beau said and slowly stepped out of the mouth of the cave to look around. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she said and raised her bow. “If he’s still alive, he will shoot you unless I shoot him first.” 

Beau kept his sword held out in front of him as he took a few more tentative steps down the rocky face of the hill. He turned around when he heard a disapproving taunt from behind him. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” A robed poacher fired a blast of flame at Mithra from where he stood above the entrance to the cave. Before Beau could close the distance between them to run him through, the mage threw a fireball that scorched him like molten steel, burning through the fabric of his tunic to sear the flesh of his arm beneath his chainmail. 

Beau hissed in pain and remembered his training. He silenced the mage before casting Holy Smite, causing the man to lose his footing so he landed on his back at the cave entrance. Realizing he couldn’t cast, the mage struggled to his feet and ran. Beau tried to give chase, but the blistering pain radiating down his arm and chest slowed him down. 

“Fuck!” Beau shouted. 

Mithra was on her knees, holding the arrow lodged in her stomach. “They got away,” she said quietly. “All of them.” 

“Mithra?” Beau saw her and noticed her eyes were half-lidded. She’d lost a lot of blood, but he wasn’t sure whether it was that or a look of defeat he read on her face. “They’re leaving tracks all over the place,” he assured her as he dug through his pouch for an injury kit. He snapped the arrow off in front of her before wrapping her with the bandage. He knew not to remove it yet, not until the Keeper or one of her mages could heal her properly. 

Mithra wanted to attack him for causing more pain to wrack her body, but she didn’t. When he sheathed his sword and knelt down to hook his arm under her knees and the other around her body, she winced and groaned. He carried her back to camp, ignoring his own pain, and they passed the body of the dead ranger in the tall grass. 

“I was wrong about you,” she admitted defeatedly. 

“About what? Being spineless or smelling bad?” he asked and smirked, hiding how much pain he was in. 

“I thought you would let them go without even so much as taking what they had.” 

“I wouldn't have let them leave with the horns. I know how important the halla are to you and your people. I just wanted to avoid any needless bloodshed, but you reminded me that they harmed one of yours, and I felt they needed to stand trial.” 

“I take back what I said about you being spineless,” she said. “You do still need a bath.” 

“I'm not the only one,” he mumbled. 

“That's not fair. It's called blood,” she retorted. 

Cammen saw them approaching the camp and ran ahead to notify Lanaya. 

“I was wrong about you too,” Beau admitted. “I thought for sure you would stick an arrow in me the first chance you got and then tell your clan that the poachers got me.” 

Mithra whimpered from the pain in her stomach as he walked the path uphill into camp. “You told me not to question your honor. I ask that you do the same.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of questioning your honor.” 

Lanaya followed Cammen to meet them and led them to the section of their camp they designated as an infirmary. Beau gently laid Mithra down on a cot and gave the healers space to see to her. 

“You are hurt,” Lanaya said, seeing the burn on his arm. “Remove your armor. We will tend to your wounds as well.” 

Beau did as she suggested and looked over the burns on his upper body as he sat down. He hoped they wouldn’t leave a nasty scar. He watched Mithra curse at the elf removing the arrow from her abdomen and chuckled. He was glad she didn’t hear him, certain she would have turned that ire on him. But the elf tending to her seemed entirely unfazed by it. 

“What happened?” Lanaya asked as she mended his scars with healing magic. She found it peculiar that he found humor in the situation, but she thought perhaps he saw something she didn’t. 

“We found your poachers and they weren't all that pleased to see us,” Beau answered. 

“One dead,” Mithra added. “Three escaped. They were hiding in the grizzlies' den east of the Great Oak. It looks like they killed two more halla. We found their horns stashed there. Someone should go retrieve them... and track down the others. They were injured.” 

“Thank you, Warden,” Lanaya said, “for bringing Mithra back safely.” 

“No need to thank me,” Beau said. “Will she be okay?” 

Mithra was annoyed that he was talking about her like she wasn’t right there. “I’ll be fine!” 

Beau could hear the annoyance in her tone, but he chose to do like the healer did and ignore it. “Where can I get a bath around here?” he asked. Lanaya’s magic hadn’t just eased his pain but completely prevented any scarring. All that was left to do was fix his smell. 

Lanaya waved Cammen over and said, “Get some soap from Varathorn and show the Warden to the falls where he can bathe.” 

While Beau left the camp to bathe, Mithra lay in the cot, trying to recover. The healing magic sealed her wounds and mended her flesh, but it was not an instantaneous process. When she thought she might not aggravate the wound or faint from the blood loss, she got up to retrieve a health poultice from Varathorn and some fabric to fashion the human a new tunic, using his burnt one for a general idea on the measurements. 

Beau took his time at the falls, not just to bathe but to go for a swim. He’d always enjoyed the water. Before he was orphaned, he liked to pretend he was a pirate. Sometimes he still daydreamed about running off and commandeering a ship. It was a childish thought, he knew. How could he commandeer a ship without a crew? 

When he returned to camp, he was surprised to see Mithra standing outside his tent. “Well, I see you're up and walking.” 

Mithra held out a bundle of clothes for him. “You needed a new one. You should finish what the mage started and burn that stinky rag.” 

“I didn't think your people had any clothes in my size. Did you make this for me?” Beau smirked and pulled the fresh tunic on over his head. 

“I… Yes,” she answered, looking him over. She was glad it fit properly. But she did not like his tone. 

Beau hadn’t expected that answer. “You… sew fast,” he mumbled. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to not get this one burnt up... or let it go unwashed.” 

“Good. Well, then. I'll be returning to my post. Thank you for saving me,” she said and turned to walk away. 

“Wait,” Beau said. “I, uh… I’d like to spend a little more time with you. I enjoy your company, especially now that we're not aiming for each other's throats.” 

Mithra stared at him, dumbfounded. “You do?” 

“Well, nearly dying with someone can be quite the bonding experience.” 

“Let’s not do that again,” she said. “We could… go on another walk. Somewhere without poachers or bandits. Unless of course, you are not feeling 'outdoorsy.’” 

Beau quickly tossed his old tunic into tent and walked side by side with her. “Where are we heading?” 

“This way,” she said and led him downhill past Kallin and the camp’s halla towards the outskirts of the camp. 

Beau followed her without question. “I spent a lot of my time within the walls of Kirkwall, so I never really got a chance to appreciate nature.” 

“The cities are loud, and you share your space with hundreds of strangers, yes?” 

“Thousands,” he answered. “I don't know that I’ll spend as much time in the bigger cities now that I've joined the Wardens though. Vigil’s Keep isn’t so bad.” 

Mithra took him to a secluded place in the forest full of wild flowers and squirrel burrows. She sat on the grass in a clearing between some trees near the creek. “I come here to be alone... or to watch the wildlife.” 

Beau sat beside her and asked, “What do you usually think about when you come here?” 

“It's not as if I always think about the same thing.” 

“Point taken. You mentioned drawing earlier too.” 

“Yes, I… sometimes draw out here,” she said. “It’s easier to draw on a flat, hard surface though. I use this place just to be alone and clear my head. The sound of the water could put me to sleep.” 

Beau stretched and lay back with his hands behind his head. “It's really nice here. I promise not to go spreading this location around.” 

“If you did, I might shoot you,” she said. “So, what did you used to think about in Kirkwall when you were left with your thoughts? ‘What do I want to eat for dinner’?” 

“I thought about my family and what would have been if my parents weren't murdered,” he answered, “and then I remind myself that the past can't be changed. Besides that, I thought about my role as a templar and whether it was truly what I was meant to do, especially as I came closer to taking my vows.” 

“Ir abelas,” Mithra murmured, ashamed for mocking him. 

“Huh?” 

“I am sorry,” she said. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It's not like you killed them.” 

“But I regret that it happened.” 

“I used to blame every elf I came across...” he admitted. “Serenity wouldn’t leave me alone. I don’t know why she insisted on getting under my skin, but she did. I’m grateful for it now. I’ve learned a lot from you and your clan during my short time here. I can’t say I trust the Dalish in the Free Marches, but… I won’t be so quick to judge anyone with pointy ears.” 

“So, that is why you first looked at me like I was covered in spiders. I suppose joking about shooting humans is insensitive, now that I know.” 

“It's not like your people don't have your own reasons to hate mine, but... yeah, that’s why I looked that way. It's not because I thought your people look like seven-legged freaks.” 

“Seven? We couldn't even form a community with the spiders if we only had seven.” 

“Well, I’m glad you only have two legs,” he chuckled. “So, what do your tattoos mean?” 

“My vallaslin reflects the symbols of the Great Protector, Mythal, the patron of motherhood and justice. You heard her tale last night.” 

“It suits you. You like taking justice into your own hands.” 

“Are you making fun of me?” 

“No,” Beau scoffed and chuckled, “Maybe a little bit. Do you ever leave your clan? To go exploring or gather artifacts?” 

“No,” Mithra answered. “I stand guard and hunt. Sometimes I gather herbs.” 

“Are you allowed to leave if you want to?” 

“I don’t understand,” Mithra answered hesitantly. “Why do you ask?” 

“I thought maybe you could come with me to Vigil's Keep and authenticate some of the artifacts the Wardens have found during their trips into the Deep Roads,” Beau answered. It was a long shot. He hadn't actually looked through any of the things Serenity mentioned them having. But even one artifact was enough reason for an elf to want to see it, right? 

“You've found artifacts? We should speak to the Keeper about this,” she said. 

“Not me personally,” Beau admitted. “I haven’t been down in the Deep Roads yet. But I’ve heard of certain Dwarven thaigs having Dalish artifacts in them.” He thanked Andraste that he paid attention to Serenity’s stories. 

“Are you offering to help me find them?” she asked, confused. 

“Provided Serenity doesn’t send me into Orlais to meet a bunch of Orlesian Dalish next,” he said. “Yes.” 

“Let us return to camp,” Mithra said and stood up, excited at the prospect of learning more about her ancestors and culture thought lost to time and destruction. She found Lanaya and waved at Beau, urging him to catch up. “Keeper, the Warden has something to say.” 

“What is it you wish to discuss?” Lanaya asked. 

Beau hesitated, feeling both of their eyes on him, and said, “I was wondering if it would be all right with you if Mithra came with me back to Vigil's Keep. You see, we have elven artifacts there that still need to be identified... and there are more still in places in the Deep Roads.” 

“We have elders in the clan that would be more suitable to such tasks,” Lanaya answered, surprised at his request. “Mithra, I thought you would like to join the hunting party going to the bear’s den.” 

“I mean no offense by this,” Beau interrupted, “but I have developed trust with her and it would be more comfortable for me to travel with someone I know I can trust.” 

“Then, it is her decision to make,” Lanaya said, looking to Mithra. 

“I will go with the Grey Warden,” Mithra decided.


	10. Witch Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity recruits Finn and Ariane as she pursues Morrigan.

After leaving Beau at the fork in the road, Serenity proceeded south to the Korcari Wilds. She couldn’t help feeling just a little bit nostalgic, remembering how Flemeth had saved her and Morrigan had reluctantly tagged along. She doubted either of them expected a friendship to blossom between a Circle mage and a hedge witch. But still, Serenity wondered what Flemeth’s plans were for her daughter… and for the Grey Wardens. She didn’t question how someone as old as Flemeth knew the secrets of the order, but she did still question the purpose of the dark ritual she tasked her daughter to perform. Was it really as simple as extending her life through another’s body? Or was there something more sinister behind the capture of the old god’s soul?

When Serenity arrived at the hut in the swamp, she hoped Morrigan would not try to fight her. She knew her friend asked her not to follow, but she had to know Serenity was stubborn, curious, and sentimental. Her sentimentality was one of the things that Morrigan equally hated and liked about her, though she would never admit to it. Instead of Morrigan, Serenity was met with Ariane, a Dalish hunter whose clan had a precious piece of their history stolen from them. She didn’t know what Morrigan intended, but if it required stealing from the Dalish, it couldn’t be good. 

Serenity invited Ariane to join her at the Circle of Magi to research the _eluvian_ Morrigan was so interested in. She thought it was only right she involve the hunter in seeking her out, at least to recover the stolen book. In doing so, she gave her the opportunity to learn more about her culture through the Circle's extensive library. The Dalish lost so much of their culture over the centuries, but because of their seclusion, they didn’t even know how much of their history was still housed within libraries all over Thedas and thaigs in the Deep Roads. There was so much more to be found than they had in their possession or found in the ruins in forests. 

_It feels strange to be back home,_ Serenity thought as she walked through the doors into the tower. Even stranger to call the Circle home still. It hadn’t been her home for a long time. It never would be again. The Deep Roads would be her home at the end of her life. 

But she grew up in the Circle. At times, she hated it, but most of the time, it was where she felt she belonged. It felt safe. After seeing the Gallows, she realized how fortunate she was to have been born in Ferelden. It wasn’t perfect, but it could have been so much worse. 

“The Circle is glad to have you as a guest,” Ser Hadley said, reminding her not to wander upstairs where she didn’t belong. Being that she was no longer a Circle mage, she didn’t have the run of the place without an escort. Not that she ever had as an apprentice. 

If Knight-Commander Greagoir were there, however, she thought things might be different. He had allowed her on her last visit to seek out Irving in the mages’ quarters. But she did not argue. 

“It’s good to see you again, Ser Hadley,” she said, guessing he must have been promoted from Knight-Lieutenant to Knight-Captain if he stood in for Greagoir while he was away. 

“You as well,” he answered, hoping she didn’t intend to take the Dalish downstairs to peruse the artifacts they’d collected there. He took a step back when Mabari-Cullen started sniffing him. “Keep your hound in line, will you? The apprentices scare easily.” 

“He won’t be a bother,” Serenity said. She ordinarily would have left Mabari-Cullen across the lake, but she hadn’t given it any thought this time. Fortunately, Ariane hadn’t learned his name yet, so at least when she spoke to him, she wouldn’t say it. 

Serenity led Ariane through the apprentices’ quarters on the way to the library and recognized two of the girls in the bed chamber. Hazel wore gold robes, indicating she passed her Harrowing, and the other, she recognized as Karyn, an apprentice that never held any fondness for her. After passing the doorway, Serenity stopped to listen. 

“Never thought I’d see her back here.” 

“A pity Cullen’s not here,” Hazel murmured. “I rather enjoyed listening to their conversations. He never spoke with any of the other apprentices, but he seemed well educated for a templar. I always thought the only thing they knew was the Chant of Light.” 

“And how to kill mages,” Karyn muttered. “He’s not still carrying a torch for her, is he?” 

“I hope not,” she answered. “I wouldn’t want to see him get in trouble. He’s been at the chantry in Greenfell for some time. It’s a nice, quiet village from what I hear. He’s probably forgotten all about her by now.” 

“Is that near Highever?” 

“I don’t know…” Hazel said. “I wonder if he’ll come back here after he calms down. I heard the Knight-Commander told him he could if he wanted to.” 

“I’m glad he’s gone. He was so… twitchy. And that intense stare? Creepy,” Karyn shuddered. “He should stay in Greenfell and become a priest.” 

“Maybe he did,” Hazel said. “He spent so much time in the chapel here those last few months. It wouldn’t surprise me if he promised himself to Andraste.” 

“Why are we standing here?” Ariane asked, tapping Serenity on the shoulder. 

“Shh,” Serenity hushed her and whispered, “I’m listening.” 

“You like to eavesdrop on these sheltered mages? How childish,” Ariane admonished. “We should find those books you promised me.” 

Serenity sighed and kept moving. Ariane was right, after all. It was silly to get looped back into the gossip. She hadn’t even been there for ten minutes and she was letting the rumors distract her. She could see Cullen seeking penance and comfort in the chapel, probably all the more hurt by the anxious whispers surrounding and judging him. Whose decision was it then to send him to Kirkwall? Was it by Meredith's request or had Greagoir determined he was no longer fit to serve in Ferelden's Circle? 

After looking through the index and finding the Catalogue of Elven Relics, Serenity stood beside Ariane and opened the book to flip through the pages until she found the chapter matching the elven characters for eluvian. 

“Didn’t they teach you proper care of antique volumes in the first year?” 

Serenity looked up to see a familiar face looking at her incredulously. He was still an apprentice when she left the Circle, now a mage, but she didn’t know him well. “Flora?” she asked. “Do you mind? You’re in my light.” 

“It’s Finn!” 

“Finn? I could have sworn your name was Flora. It was short for something.” 

“Yes, it was short for Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, Esquire. I go by Finn now,” he said and sighed. “Maker! People save the country and suddenly they think they can abuse priceless books all willy-nilly!” 

“What in the Maker’s name are you talking about? I barely just opened it!” Serenity argued. 

“I saw you pull it off the shelf by the top of the spine! You’re supposed to grip it in the middle,” he scolded her. “And look! You’re going to crack the binding and crease the spine!” 

He spoke with such surety that Serenity carefully closed the book between her hands, afraid she might actually have done something wrong. “At least my hands are clean,” she mumbled. 

“Are they? I thought I saw you pet your dog on your way in,” he said, crossing his arms. 

Had she? She couldn’t remember. “Well, since you’re such an expert at handling books, you can help us.” 

Finn proved to be as informative as the Circle’s librarian—maybe even more so. He knew more than Ariane about eluvians and he wasn’t afraid to seek answers from the Tevinter spirit in the repository. 

With Ser Hadley’s permission, they descended the stairs with the warning of hostile sentinels. Serenity would have thought Irving or some of the senior enchanters would have known about the tears in the veil in the basement and tried to repair them sooner. Leaving them open left the Circle at risk for more possessions. Although the demons had come through on the upper floors during Uldred’s uprising, the residual energy of death reached far below. Like a thread snagged on one’s robe, left unstitched, it would stretch into a hole. 

“They let people down here now?” Serenity asked, surprised. The repository had always been off limit to mages--with the exception of those they took into the dungeon. She never knew about what went on down there while she was an apprentice. She only learned about the dungeons when Anders told her about them. She hadn't even noticed them the first time she went into the basement with Jowan, but then, she had been on a mission to find his phylactery, not to explore. 

“Since they moved our phylacteries out,” Finn answered. “It’s fascinating some of the artifacts they’ve kept secret down here all this time.” 

"Do you think they still use those gibbets we passed?"

"The--what? Maker, no! Those have to be old," he said. "They were all rusting in a corner. I think they use this place to store things and forget about a lot of the time. You should have seen the state of the statue when I found it, covered in a layer of dust so thick you couldn't see the marble underneath."

"Do they still utilize these cells?" she asked, stepping inside one to see where Anders had once been kept. They had stored and forgotten him down there. Or had they? Did they chain his wrists to the manacles hanging from the ceiling? Did he have scars on his back from the lashes they might have given him? Judging by the blood stains on the floor, she didn't think they had just left him there. No, he--or somebody else--had endured punishment far crueler than the picture he had painted.

"I hope not," Finn muttered. "I don't like it down there. Can we find the statue now?" 

"No wonder this place was infested with demons," Ariane said. 

Serenity found the repository with the ancient artifacts, but she couldn't get the image of the dungeon out of her mind. Their conversation with the Tevinter statue pointed them in the direction of Cad’halash, a dwarven thaig, and Finn was eager to accompany them. 

“Will Ser Hadley just let you up and leave?” Serenity asked. 

“I was already given permission to leave to continue my research. I just never really had the opportunity until now,” Finn answered and went back upstairs to inform Ser Hadley of his departure. 

“Make sure Finn behaves himself out there,” Ser Hadley said. 

“You sound like my mother,” Finn sighed. 

“Bring a hat,” Serenity said. “We wouldn’t want you to get sunburned.” 

“Ugh, now you sound like her too!” 

“I’m not really worried about this one,” Ser Hadley said quietly. He knew all of the mages in the tower, and Finn might have been the least of his worries. He was a smart lad—too smart, sometimes. But he never broke a single rule. 

“We’ll be gone for at least a month,” Serenity warned them. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Finn?” 

“Ready to finally answer the questions all my research has raised? Absolutely,” he answered. “I intend to compile my notes into a book when I get back.” 

Serenity was used to leading the way on these expeditions, but despite never leaving Kinloch Hold, Finn walked ahead of them with his map open. She was fond of him and thought he could potentially make a great First Enchanter one day. What he lacked in social graces, he more than made up for with a sense of humor and an encyclopedic knowledge of… well, just about everything. He was absolutely the biggest nerd she had ever met, and she appreciated that about him. She already knew she would utilize his expertise whenever she dropped by the Circle. 

  


In Cadash thaig, Ariane proved to be a skilled fighter, and Finn, at first fearful, stayed close and cast spells to assist in battle. In spite of his apprehension about darkspawn lurking in the shadows, he had the habit of wandering off to examine the symbols on the old stone slabs. 

They followed the lights of Arlathan, reluctantly dispatching the guardian spirits they would have preferred to speak with. The guardians had no interest in talking though. Both Serenity and Ariane tried to slow their assault to ask questions, but they had to defend themselves. 

“Ugh,” Finn sighed, noticing a spot on his otherwise immaculate robe. He ironed his robes every morning and never wore the same one two days in a row. He hoped the spot wouldn’t stain. 

“You don’t seem to be that pleased to be out of the tower, Finn,” Ariane said, quirking an eyebrow. “I thought most mages wanted to be free.” 

“Just to be outside? Do you see this spot here on my robe? That’s mud. There’s no mud in the tower,” he said. “I miss being cozy and dry.” 

“That looks like darkspawn blood to me,” Serenity said. 

“W-what?” Finn looked at it again and shuddered. “Is it really? Am I going to get sick? Doesn’t their blood make people sick?” 

Serenity felt bad for teasing him and said, “I was kidding. You haven’t been within twenty feet of a darkspawn. It’s just a little dirt.” 

Finn sighed with relief. “It’s mud. It’s still wet.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of a mud,” Serenity said. “Some say it’s good for your skin.” 

“They lied,” Ariane said. “Unless the mud is mostly clay.” 

“I do not want mud on my skin,” Finn grimaced. 

“So, is that why you don’t like going outside?” Ariane asked. “Because of dirt? Have you ever been outside?” 

“Yes, I just don’t care for it. We had to do stretching exercises. I got sweaty,” he said, scrunching his nose in distaste. He would never understand children or dogs and their love for rolling around on the ground. “They thought getting fresh air and exercise once a week would do us good. Luckily it didn’t last long.” 

“I remember the stretching exercises! It was such a nice change,” Serenity said. “It feels so long ago, I’d forgotten all about it. I think I only went out maybe four or five times. I remember thanking Greagoir for adding it to our schedule. And then next thing I know, it was taken away.” 

“An apprentice made a break for it,” Finn said. “Jumped off the dock and started swimming for the shore. The templars couldn’t jump in after him, not with the armor on. Finally found him a week later!” 

Serenity sighed, “That’s why we can’t have nice things.” 

“That mage, Anders, never stopped trying to escape though. I wonder what happened to him since his last attempt.” 

“Anders?” Serenity chuckled wryly. “I shouldn’t be surprised it was him. He wasn’t killed by templars if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

“You know that for a fact?” Finn asked curiously. “Well, that’s good. He was a talented healer. We shared some of the same books. He was even worse than you when it came to proper book etiquette. I caught him dog-ear a page once.” 

Serenity laughed, “I’ll bet he had a smart remark when you chewed his ear off for it.” 

“He was kind of an ass,” Finn said. “But I’m glad he’s okay.” 

She didn’t tell him any more than that. She preferred he just think Anders was ‘okay’ and not about what he might have become. “You don’t care for idle gossip, do you, Finn?” she asked, certain he was more interested in proven facts. 

“No, why?” 

“What was Cullen like before he left?” she asked curiously. “I’ve heard the apprentices talk about him like he was scary.” 

“Who?” 

“The templar, Cullen,” she said. 

“Which one is that?” 

“Never mind,” she mumbled. She wondered if only the girls knew his name. 

“Wait, is that the one that used to guard the library? Curly blond hair?” 

“Yes,” Serenity answered and looked back over her shoulder. 

“I remember him,” he said. “I helped him find a book one time. He was looking for _Ferelden: Folklore and History._ ” 

“Is that all you remember of him? You don’t remember seeing him after the attack on the Circle?” 

“No, I try not to pay attention to the templars. They don’t like it when you do. Why?” 

“No reason,” she answered and kept walking. 

  


After gathering the lights of Arlathan, Ariane led them to the elven ruins with the broken eluvian. Finn performed the scrying spell (admittedly much better than Serenity could have—she had only made the smallest effort in her scrying class as an apprentice) while the others fended off the demons that sprung up from the floor. 

From there, they knew to go to the Dragonbone Wastes. Serenity was none too eager to return there after her last experience. She only hoped any remnants of the Children and the Mother were gone. 

They took a different path from the one she’d followed in seeking out the Mother and the Architect, avoiding the tower and any remnants of darkspawn filth on the way. But the place still reminded her of that time, and she still questioned whether she had made the right decision. Even though Fiona assured her she did the right thing and that it was the same decision Duncan would have made, Serenity wondered if that were true. Would other Warden-Commanders take the opportunity to end all future blights? The ends always justified the means, right? Yet, she had to consider the cost. What was ending the blight if it meant something worse? 

  


When they found the eluvian, Morrigan stood beside it, waiting apprehensively. 

“I know you told me not to follow you,” Serenity said. “But I had to see you for myself.” 

“What for?” Morrigan asked. “We had a deal. I save your life, and in return, you leave me be.” 

“Don’t pretend you were feeling altruistic. I made that deal out of fear, but you would have done it anyway. You wanted that child,” Serenity said. “I want to know why.” 

“I cannot tell you that,” Morrigan answered. “Only that the child is innocent. I must prepare him for what is to come.” 

“What is to come?” 

“Change,” Morrigan answered softly. “Many fear change and will fight it with every fiber of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most.” 

“I don’t understand,” Serenity said. “Are you going to hurt that child? Are you using Flemeth’s grimoire?” 

“I thought I knew what Flemeth planned. I thought what she craved was immortality,” Morrigan answered. “I was wrong. She is not even truly human. I hope, for your sake, my friend, that we do not meet again. This is goodbye.” 

“Wait—” Serenity followed her, but once Morrigan stepped through the mirror, the portal closed behind her. “She left me with more questions than answers.” 

“So… was it all a waste?” Finn asked. 

“No,” Ariane answered, picking up her clan’s book off the ground. “I got our book back.” 

“Well, that’s something,” Finn said. “She’s even worse than Anders, just leaving a priceless artifact in the mud.” 

Serenity sighed and joined them, trying her best to hide her disappointment and the sinking feeling of dread she felt. All Morrigan did was set her ill at ease with cryptic hints about what could have meant the end of the world. Was that what that Tevinter statue was foreboding about? 

“On the bright side,” Serenity said, “You’re not dead, Finn.” 

“We haven’t gotten out yet,” Ariane reminded her. 

After safely leaving the Dragonbone Wastes, Ariane returned to her clan with their precious artifact and Finne accompanied her. 


	11. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity spends a year in Orlais with Leliana before returning to her duties at Vigil's Keep.

Serenity was surprised to receive a letter at Kinloch Hold from Leliana, considering she had only informed Nathaniel of her whereabouts. She would have thought perhaps Leliana had gone to Vigil’s Keep to find her, only to be informed she was away—but the letter came from Orlais.

  
_Dearest Serenity,_

_It always pleases me to receive your letters. I wish I could have been there to help you eradicate the darkspawn from your Keep. I’m sure you thought you might have some respite after slaying the Archdemon. Then, to be set upon by even more! You poor thing. I have sent along some soaps for you to enjoy in your bath now that you have some time to relax. I would have sent along rose petals, but they would not have survived the journey. Although dried flowers still hold the oils that give them fragrance, it is not the same as the silky smooth petals of a freshly plucked rose. Perhaps you could grow some flowers of your own, outside your bedroom window. I’ve included a list that make for wonderful teas and garnishes._

_I found your retelling of the events in Amaranthine fascinating, especially with the Architect. You are a wonderful storyteller. I could put your stories to song. I know you seek my council over whether you made the right decision in ending his life, but it is difficult for me to say. If he was who you think, the Maker saw him punished for his greed, and you showed him mercy in ending his immortal life. But I do wonder if he could have helped in some way. I do not mean in the way he promised with ending the Blight and freeing the horde but with the other magisters. If he still lives, the others may as well. For all our sakes, I hope they slumber. This Architect, as you spoke of him, sounded reasonable. But history shows us the Tevinter magisters are all but that._

_My invitation to you, as always, dear friend, remains open. I look forward to hearing more of your adventures. I am so grateful the Maker put me in your path in Lothering. I am even more grateful for your friendship and faith in me and mine. Everything has led me to where I am now, standing beside Divine Justinia as her right hand. May the Maker continue to guide you on your journey, Warden-Commander._

_Love,_

_Leliana_

_P.S. Schmooples is getting fat. I think I should build him a wheel to run in with a treat dangling in front of him. Do you think it will work?_

  


Rather than draft a response, Serenity decided to accept Leliana’s invitation and travel to Orlais. She still intended to return to Soldier’s Peak to aid Avernus in his experiments, but the old man had told her to return ‘at her leisure.’ He might have said it with sarcasm, but she was going to take it at face value. She left Mabari-Cullen in Denerim to spend time with Alistair while she was away. 

* * *

  


Serenity found Leliana in Val Royeaux and hung on her every word as she taught her about Orlais and treated her to delicacies, fine wine, and frilly clothes. Serenity was unaccustomed to being fussed over, but she liked it when Leliana was the one fussing. She was so sweet and generous, even if she hid a deadly assassin behind her mellifluous exterior. 

It was comforting to have someone to confide in wholeheartedly. There was nobody else, save perhaps Zevran, Serenity felt she could share her every thought and feeling with. As close as she felt to Alistair or Wynne, there were things she could never confess to either of them. And Sten was simply not one to discuss sentimentalities with. But Leliana valued love and faith above logical thought, even if the idea might be naïve. 

Seated at a tea table in her parlor over coffee and chocolate, Serenity regailed her friend with the details of her visit to Kirkwall. 

“Oh, Serenity, you should write him a letter! It will be so romantic,” Leliana urged. “Before you seal it, add just a drop of perfume to the paper’s crease. It will give just the faintest hint--” 

“If the Knight-Captain received a perfumed letter, rumors would run rampant through the Circle,” Serenity reminded her. 

Leliana shook her head disappointedly and sighed, “Of course. I forgot. This is a delicate situation. That makes it all the more romantic, having to operate in secret. The risk just makes it more alluring, doesn’t it?” 

“Not when the one who would suffer from being caught is him,” she answered. “But I suppose that it is forbidden might make it a little bit more enticing.” 

Leliana smiled, “Yes, it does. You can’t send the letter as yourself. Even signing as the Warden-Commander, it will raise questions about your connection. What purpose does the Knight-Captain have in speaking with a Grey Warden?” 

“It doesn’t take much to figure out that I was a Circle mage,” Serenity frowned. “There are already rumors about us.” 

Leliana tried not to swoon and took a beaded truffle from the box on the table. “You should pretend to be a templar. You know them intimately enough to pose as one.” 

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Serenity said. “It’s funny, but it’s also a little twisted, isn’t it?” 

“You’re doing it in the name of love,” she urged. “Ser Renity.” 

Serenity laughed, “That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?” 

“You are blending in,” Leliana said. “You will hide in plain sight. If you are convincing, they will see what you want them to see. I would not inundate the Knight-Captain with letters. But an update from a former colleague in Ferelden? Why should anyone suspect?” 

“I wish I could see his face as he reads it,” Serenity said. “I need a pen and paper. What if I sign it Ser Renit Y.? Renity doesn’t sound like a real name, especially not a masculine one. I have heard names that sound like Renit though—like Dennet.” 

“See? You are better at this than you thought,” Leliana teased, setting an inkpot, parchment, and quill on the table in front of her. “I will try not to peek over your shoulder as you write, but I am so curious what you have to say. I suggest starting each sentence with a letter corresponding to a hidden message that will spell out ‘I love you.’ Is Cullen the kind of man that can read between the lines?” 

Serenity laughed, “I… I don’t know. I think I will keep it simple.” 

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Leliana said encouragingly. “He will know it is written with love.” 

Serenity smiled and took the pen the paper:

  
_Knight-Captain Cullen,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I meant to write you sooner, but I was away from the Circle, tracking down a mage. I tracked her across Ferelden, as far south as the Korcari Wilds, as far west as a dwarven thaig near Orzammar, and as far north as the Dragonbone Wastes before I caught her. Rest assured, our meeting was resolved without violence._

_I am currently stationed in Orlais at the Circle in Montsimmard, but I travelled through Val Royeaux on my way here. Orlesian culture is so very different from Ferelden. You should see the size of their dogs. They’re only the size of a mabari’s head. Everything is extravagant. Even more so than I imagined. Their food, their art, their architecture, their clothing. People walk around wearing masks and consider it lacking social grace to go in public without one. It’s a little unnerving being unable to see their faces. But I wear a helmet, so who am I to talk?_

_The politics here are unsettling, too. I don’t have a mind for this kind of society. It reminds me of what I have read of dwarven politics. I know nobility can be underhanded everywhere, including Ferelden, but they call it ‘The Grand Game’ here. I am more than happy not to play, especially when losing could mean meeting the business end of a dagger in the bedroom._

_I heard there is trouble in Kirkwall, having to do with a group called ‘the Mage Underground.’ What do you think makes Kirkwall so different than Ferelden or Orlais, that people would sympathize with the mages rather than fear them for their potential dangers? I hope that you are safe should the Underground escalate to violence, but I pray they do not._

_I will continue to serve in Orlais until Bloomingtide and then I will return to Ferelden. Until you write me back, I will remain Vigilant and Keep you in my mind._

_Signed,_

_Ser Renit Y._

  


When Serenity looked up from the parchment and waved her hand over it to help dry the ink faster, she saw Leliana smiling at her. “What?” 

“You were smiling as you wrote it,” she teased. “You’re in love.” 

“Stop teasing me,” Serenity mumbled. “Do you think we can go to the theatre tonight? I’ve never seen a play before. Not a real one, I mean.”

“You’ve seen a fake play? I hate to inform you, but plays are all make believe.”

Serenity smiled, “We put on a play as apprentices in the Circle, but that was for children.” 

“Oh, how darling,” Leliana cooed. “I can just picture you as a little girl, dressed like a tree.”

Serenity face palmed and peeked through her fingers. “I wasn’t as young as you’re imagining, but I will admit I didn’t have any lines.”

“You must re-enact your part for me when you’re feeling bold,” Leliana laughed. “We can go tonight. They are performing the Heir of Verchiel, a classic in Orlesian theatre.” 

“Will I have to wear a mask?” Serenity asked. She couldn’t understand why there was so much importance put on something so uncomfortable to wear, but she didn't have one and wasn't sure whether she would be expected to wear one. 

“No," Leliana answered. "Since you do not belong to a noble house, even as a servant, you will not have a heraldry to bear. Do not worry. I will not wear a mask either." 

“That's a relief. I think it would make my face sweat," Serenity said as she wrapped her letter to Cullen in a waxen cord. 

"I have a chronicle I've been meaning to share with you," Leliana said, hiding a smile behind her cup of tea. "It's a quarterly release by a mysterious writer called The Randy Dowager. They are 'exhibitions for the noble of thought but spry of step.' His works are highly sought after by Orlesian nobles. They're frivolous and lewd, but I just knew you would like it."

"You just knew I would like something frivolous and lewd?" Serenity asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You're probably right. Let me see."

Leliana giggled, retrieving the volume from her desk. "This one is called 'Conscripted by Love.' It's about Grey Wardens. I hear there is an issue floating around about templars. I will try to find it for you." 

"Yes, please," Serenity smiled and started reading. "Oh, I love this. This is going to be our little secret, okay?"

"Of course," Leliana answered. "Guilty pleasures are meant to be kept secret." 

* * *

  


Serenity spent a year with Leliana in Orlais, taking weeks at a time to stay in the Montsimmard Circle as a guest of Fiona’s. It was surprising how different every Circle was from another. Even between the Circles in Orlais, from how Fiona described them, there was a stark contrast and politics at play between the Enchanters. It all seemed so simple from an apprentice’s point of view, but they only saw what was on the surface of the water, not what happened below. 

She realized how truly naive she was to have imagined becoming First Enchanter, especially the part about engaging in a secret romantic relationship with Cullen as the Knight-Commander. There were some things better left unconfessed. That was one secret Serenity couldn’t speak aloud even to Leliana for how laughable it was. Even if Greagoir and Irving were friends, aligned in their ideals, they could not affect change on their own. Nothing about Circle politics was simple. 

When Serenity left Orlais, she took only what she arrived with, save a few small items that could fit in her bag—chocolates, perfume, and soaps molded into the shape of roses. She took an interest in Orlesian fashion, seeing how exaggerated it was. But if ever the opportunity arose to rub elbows with the nobles at court, she would go against their gaudy, sharp edges and round layered skirts. 

Serenity traveled across Ferelden to Denerim to retrieve Mabari-Cullen and was disappointed to learn Alistair was away on business in Redcliffe. She had completely bypassed Redcliffe on her way back. 

She left a bag of her fancy Orlesian chocolates with Queen Anora and asked her to share them with the King. She had the feeling though that they wouldn’t bear mentioning and any evidence of their existence would disappear before he got back. 

Upon arriving at Vigil’s Keep, Serenity found Beau in the dining hall with Mithra. She recognized the Dalish elf and joined them at their table as Mabari-Cullen explored the courtyard, marking his territory. 

“I see your first mission was a success,” Serenity said, subduing a grin. 

“You’re gloating,” Beau sighed. 

“I barely said a thing!” 

“Your face is gloating. I can see it,” he said. 

“Warden,” Mithra greeted her. “I’ve been looking over some of your findings from the thaigs. I had no idea our people lived underground or were so closely allied with the durgen’len. Our clans scarcely see them now.” 

“I’ve found even more,” Serenity said. “You should visit the Circle of Magi and speak with Florian. Without him, I would not have even scratched the surface of what elven history lies with the dwarves. He might even let you borrow his map.” 

Beau withheld a groan. “You’re sending me into another Circle of Magi?” 

“Oh, well, if it’s not important to you—” 

“It is!” Mithra interjected. “I will go by myself if I have to.” 

“What?” Beau frowned. “You would just go off on your own that easily? Without a second thought?” 

“If you are afraid of a few mages—” 

“There you go again, calling me spineless,” Beau scoffed. 

“I did not use that word,” she argued. “You are being resistant when we have the answer to our question.” 

“What question is that?” Serenity asked. 

“Where to start,” she answered. “We should leave at once.” 

“You’re so pushy,” Beau grumbled. “The thaig isn’t going anywhere. We can leave tomorrow. Or the day after.” 

“Tomorrow, then. The thaig may not walk away, but the darkspawn could be destroying what little history of ours is left down there as we speak,” Mithra said, crossing her arms. 

“You two are cute,” Serenity grinned, eliciting an indignant glare from Beau as his face changed color. “Is that a sunburn or are you blushing?” 

“I hate you,” he whispered. 

“He says that a lot,” Mithra said dismissively. “Any meaning behind the words is lost. We hate you too, shem.” 

“That’s just hurtful,” he said and exchanged looks with her. 

Serenity noticed the smile shared between them and knew whatever feigned animosity between them was jovial. She only hoped Beau wouldn’t get his heart broken when Mithra returned to her clan. 

“I need to go catch up with Nate,” Serenity said and stood up to excuse herself. “If you venture down into the Deep Roads, you might want to lead an expedition with more people than just yourselves. It is dangerous. The darkspawn are not solitary creatures. They travel in packs. Next I hear of your progress, I hope it is not for funeral arrangements.” 

“That’s morose,” Beau answered. “We’ll be careful.” 

Serenity explored the Keep until she found Jowan tutoring one of the mage recruits. She never would have thought she would offer Jowan that position after how he’d screwed up teaching the first time he tried it—in Redcliffe—but without Anders there, she had to have faith in him. She preferred her own people to those she hadn’t met. It was as simple as that. She knew her trust instilled confidence in Jowan, which led him to take fewer risks. He wasn’t just doing well in his new role, he found enjoyment in it. 

As soon as Jowan found out she was back, he gathered as many of the recruits she hadn’t met yet as he could find so they could finally meet their Commander. She owed them that much. Some of the Wardens that came to Vigil’s Keep had been with the order longer than she had, but they still had questions about the Blight. 

She stayed up late into the night answering all of their questions about darkspawn, old treaties, Duncan, and Denerim’s military strategy--of which, she didn’t know enough to speak on, so she deferred to Oghren. She promised to brief them in the coming days on what would be done, but she knew she needed to speak with Nathaniel first. He, along with Seneschal Garevel, had been running the place in her absence. 

When Serenity finally excused herself, she found Nathaniel and shared a drink with him in the empty dining hall as they went over what happened in her absence. He had a stack of documents for her to review and sign off on, but first, she wanted to talk. 

“How are you doing?” she asked. 

“The Wardens at Weisshaupt have finally stopped hounding me,” Nathaniel said. “It seems we’ve stabilized enough here that they’re content to sit back and leave us to it. For now, anyway. We’ve nearly finished repairing all the damage that was done to Vigil’s Keep, and we’re only perhaps two years from finishing repairs in the city of Amaranthine. Trade routes are clear of darkspawn and bandits, thanks in part to Velanna.” 

“Velanna? I thought she was returning to her clan.” 

“I haven’t spoken to her myself,” he said. “But she knows she is welcome here if she’s turned away by the Dalish.” 

“I hope she finds where she belongs,” Serenity said. “Now, what about you? How are you?” 

Nathaniel chuckled wryly, “I’m fine. I appreciate what you’ve done to keep me busy. I get to see my sister frequently enough and watch my nephew grow up.”

“Uncle Nate,” she smiled. “What is your nephew’s name?” 

“Delilah named him Thomas, after our late brother,” he answered. “The boy is a little menace already, and he’s still in diapers.” 

“You don’t regret joining the Wardens, do you?” she asked hesitantly. “I could see you marrying and settling down somewhere.” 

“Can you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You must not have spent enough time with me. Or have you forgotten how we met?”

She had kept him and Anders close since she arrived in the arling of Amaranthine until the end of the darkspawn’s civil war. But people were different during wartime. “I haven’t forgotten. But you’re not the same man you were when we first met.” 

He scoffed lightly, “Do I really seem the kind of man to settle down?” 

“Maybe not,” she chuckled. “Just hearing you talk about your nephew, I can’t help picturing you with a child of your own.” 

“I call him a menace and you think I’m doting on him,” he grinned. “You’re going soft, Commander.” 

“I’ve always been soft,” she said.

“Not when you don’t want to be.” 

“That’s right. I have a reputation to uphold,” she smirked. 

“I’ve seen you look ready to cut out a man’s tongue before,” he recalled. “You might not have, but by anyone’s account, you would have.” 

“You exaggerate.” 

“I would never,” he said. “You just weren’t aware of it. There were whispers after you were gone.” 

“Maker preserve me,” Serenity sighed. “Rumors? What now?” 

Nathaniel chuckled, “The rumor was you threatened to make Seneschal Garevel into a eunuch.” 

Serenity laughed at the absurdity of the allegation, but then she remembered how angry she was the last time she came back to Vigil’s Keep. “I suppose I didn’t exactly look to see who was present in the room with us when I confronted him,” she admitted. “I hope he wasn’t upset with me.” 

“Not at all,” he answered. “I quelled the rumors.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

“Something came for you while you were away,” he said and took a sealed letter from his pocket. “I am not even going to ask.” 

She looked down at the name Ser Renit Y and felt her heart skip a beat. 

“I can see you want to read it now,” he said. “I have just one more question for you before you take your leave.” 

“Yes?” she asked, looking up from the folded parchment. 

“Who is to be my Lieutenant?” he asked. “It is your decision to make.” 

Serenity rested her chin on her hand as she contemplated their options. It was better left to his discretion, she thought—but then Mabari-Cullen walked in through the door, sniffing around. 

“Cullen would make a wonderful Lieutenant,” she said. “He’s been a Grey Warden for as long as I have.” 

“He—what?” Nathaniel followed her gaze and shook his head. “You can’t say that with a straight face or I’ll be inclined to believe you.” 

Mabari-Cullen looked up and barked. 

“Is it such a crazy idea?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone even. “He’s smarter than most humans. He helped defeat the Archdemon.” 

Mabari-Cullen barkd again, his tail wagging with approval. 

“See? It sounds like he accepts,” she said. 

Nathaniel sighed and looked down at Mabari-Cullen. “Will you talk some sense into her, please?” 

Mabari-Cullen turned his head away from Nathaniel and chuffed. 

“How do you plan on doing the paperwork involved, hm?” Nathaniel asked, addressing the mabari. “You don’t have opposable thumbs! How do you plan to give orders?” 

Mabari-Cullen barked. 

“That—nobody understands that!” 

Serenity couldn’t withhold her laughter anymore and snorted, “Your face!” 

Nathaniel almost forgot how youthful she was until he heard her laugh. She had been thrust into a war that forced her to grow up too fast. “You’re a brat,” he said and smiled. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” she smiled back. “Nobody else gets to call the Warden-Commander a ‘brat.’”

Nathaniel noticed her mug was empty and realized by the color on her cheeks that she was at least a little tipsy. “Maker help me. Have you thought about who you would make Lieutenant?” 

“Oghren,” she answered. “Unless you have somebody you think more suitable in mind. But Oghren was formerly of the warrior caste, he fought alongside me during the Blight, and he seems to have cleaned up quite a bit since the last time I saw him. Was that Felsi I saw him with?” 

“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “Oghren would be a good choice if he chooses to take on the responsibility. He can be fickle when it comes to responsibility.” 

“I'm glad to see them together. I think he'll do it,” Serenity said. “Just remind him that women love titles. Being able to call him Lieutenant will make Felsi even more hot and bothered for him.” 

Nathaniel grimaced at the thought. “Do I really need to say that?” 

“It’s just a suggestion,” she said and stood up. "I will have to meet their little one. Did she bring the baby with her?" 

“She did. Are you going to be leaving again soon?” Nathaniel asked, standing up after her to hand her the documents he set on the table. 

“I’ll be staying for a few months, hopefully long enough for their little one to recognize me as auntie,” she said. “We can discuss our plans for the long term tomorrow.” 

“It’s good to have you back,” Nathaniel said. 

“It’s good to be back,” she answered. “I can only take so much of Orlais and their masks.” 

Serenity retired to her bedroom and let Mabari-Cullen in to curl up at the foot of her bed. She drew a bath and carefully broke the seal on the letter to read. 

  
_Ser Renit,_

_I was surprised to receive your letter and even more surprised to learn where you are. I understand it will be some time before this reaches you and longer before you write me again. I am pleased to read that you were able to apprehend the apostate without fighting. Continue to be cautious in your endeavors._

_I hope that you behaved professionally in the Orlesian Circle and put your duty before your habit of conversation. If you think rumors run rampant in Ferelden, it is like comparing the common cold to a plague in Orlais. I hear the Knight-Vigilant is a stern man, and although he is stationed in the White Spire, he does communicate regularly with the Knight-Commander in Monstimmard. You would not want to earn a reprimand from up high._

_Although leaving Ferelden was in my best interest, I still sometimes think of it as my home. I haven’t seen my family in Honnleath since I left for the order, but I came to think of the templars I trained and lived with as family. Your letters are a welcome reminder that not all was lost when I left. Knight-Commander Greagoir told me I am welcome at Kinloch Hold if I ever desire to transfer back, but I do not see returning in my future as I am no longer needed there. I joined the order to serve and Kirkwall is in most need of my service._

_I can guess how you caught wind of the Mage Underground, but you needn’t worry about me. They are organized and becoming bolder, but we are curtailing their efforts._

_Remember your training and be vigilant._

_Signed,_

_Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford_

  
Serenity read the letter with a smile, tickled by their ruse. She hadn’t been sure if he would play along, but it made her happy that he did. The very last line of his letter gave her hope. When last they spoke, he’d discouraged her from returning. She knew it was selfish to go back, but that was one of the reasons she stayed away. She didn’t want to put him at risk within the order. The letter was dated several months prior to her receiving it, but she hoped he still felt the same way. 

As eager as she was to see Cullen again, Serenity intended to get to know her recruits and come up with a plan for them that didn’t just revolve around rebuilding the city’s infrastructure. There was still so much work to be done in the Deep Roads. She wanted to help push the darkspawn back underground and recover some of the lost thaigs. Ideally, she could delegate that task to a team of Wardens so she wouldn’t have to go into the Deep Roads herself. She could have Oghren lead them. But before any of that, she had to review the stack of documents Nathaniel handed her. They were thick enough to make a book out of. Or kindling.


	12. The Curmudgeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity returns to Soldier's Peak to help Avernus with his research.

Serenity left Vigil’s Keep after only a few months and stopped by Soldier’s Peak to see Avernus. She was relieved he was still alive. The first time she met him, he made it seem as though he would not live beyond the year. He still bore the taint inside him and without being able to perform a blood sacrifice to extend his longevity, it was only a short matter of time before his mind and body deteriorated. Still, he was alive and working diligently on a cure.

For as much as she had admonished him for his atrocities against his brethren, she could see now how dedicated he was to the order. His experiments had been deplorable—and the torture might have been entirely unnecessary—but he could save the rest of the Grey Wardens. His work, whether it involved science or blood magic, could potentially save any person plagued by the taint. 

She stayed with Avernus for weeks, allowing him to collect her blood every other day so he had a collection of vials to study. She reviewed his journals, though she didn’t understand everything she read. 

“Has Fiona’s blood provided you any insight into a cure?” Serenity asked, hopeful. 

“I’m using it sparingly,” he answered. “Only a drop at a time. I’ve tried mixing it with other blood to see whether it reverses the taint. As yet, it has not. But I will continue to observe over time. I will create different blood combinations with magic and see what happens.” 

“I appreciate how hard you are working,” Serenity said. 

Avernus didn’t acknowledge her, instead preparing another syringe to stick her with. “I could use more dwarven blood, if you have any more willing volunteers. The one you said didn’t pass out when he Joined. Send him to me.” 

“Lieutenant-Warden Oghren,” she said. “I’ll send a missive.” 

“Send more darkspawn blood,” he said. “Archdemon blood too if you can spare it. If you find any ghouls, I would like to have their blood as well. A Warden answering their Calling will do if you can’t find any ghouls.” 

“I don’t believe we have any longstanding Wardens at the Keep,” she said. “You could request assistance from Weisshaupt.” 

“No! No. No. No,” Avernus said, shaking his head. “Useless.” 

“Then, I’ll see about finding you a ghoul in the Deep Roads. I’m sure the Legion of the Dead could point me in the right direction. But I intend to return to the Free Marches after I finish with you here.” 

“Finish? We are not finished,” Avernus said. “Not until we have ghoul’s blood.” 

_Oh, Maker, this old man is demanding,_ Serenity thought. She hadn’t written Cullen yet, on account she thought she would be visiting him soon. 

“You should have brought the Architect’s body with you to the surface,” he said, admonishing her. “His blood might have had all the answers. His blood might have been the key.” 

“His magic is the key,” Serenity said. 

“His magic was in his blood,” Avernus argued. "As it is in yours." 

"But I am no ancient magister. I still can only make very little use of what I learned through that potion. How to power a spell is not enough to reverse the taint." 

"That you are not. His blood was priceless," Avernus muttered. "You will learn more. Practice. I will continue with my tests."

She had a thought then, though it wasn’t quite the same. “He had followers,” she said. “Disciples, he called them. Darkspawn he freed from the Calling. What if I found one of them?” 

Avernus wrapped her arm after withdrawing her blood and nodded, “Yes. Bring me one of the disciples.” 

“It will take some time,” Serenity said. “Don’t die on me, old man.” 

“You insolent little—” Avernus started. “Give me a life to extend my own if you wish to take your time, Commander.” 

“The King would never go for that, not even if he had a criminal ready to be hanged,” she said. “You’ll have to stay alive the old-fashioned way. By sheer stubbornness and a balanced diet.” 

“Did you tell that boy to force feed me vegetables?” Avernus asked, referring to Levi Dryden. “He comes in here all hours of the day, interrupting me and breaking my concentration just to tell me to eat something. I would work faster uninterrupted.” 

“You would forget to eat,” she said and stood up, holding onto the back of the chair for stability because she was still a little woozy. “I will send a letter to Weisshaupt myself. If there are any Wardens answering their Calling, they could sacrifice themselves to you, instead of the Deep Roads. It breaks tradition, but it is for the greater good. I know which death I would prefer.” 

“Yes,” Avernus answered with a hint of approval. “You should not tell them everything. You should keep the details to yourself. Only ask they send you the Wardens. Say you have questions for them.” 

“I will be honest about our intentions,” Serenity said. “They haven’t interfered with you yet.” 

“It is a bad idea,” he said. “But it is your choice to make.” 

“I will try to word it in a way that doesn’t sound like blood magic,” she said. “In case the letter is intercepted.” 

“Have it your way.” 

The blood samples in his collection provided him a variety of stages of infection, including blood that had previously bore the infection and had since been cleansed. Even though he hadn’t found it yet, Serenity hoped he could use Fiona’s blood to create a vaccine or at least to help understand the Blight magic he had unlocked. They had already come so far. If she could only master the magic he taught her, she could cure the disease. 

Serenity sent the Chamberlain-Warden another letter detailing Avernus’ progress and his request for assistance. She wasn’t sure how the First Warden would respond, but she knew the Grey Wardens justified any means to reach their end. His goals were noble enough to justify the use of a blood sacrifice, she thought. A willing one, of course. 

Before boarding the ship to the Free Marches from the city of Amaranthine, she sent a letter to Oghren too. She knew he wouldn’t be thrilled about being prodded with a needle, but he did seem more resistant to the infection than others. It would, at the very least, be interesting to observe the rate of infection in his blood compared to others.

As Serenity crossed the Waking Sea, she started to feel nervous. She intended to tell Cullen how she felt this time, as plainly as she could. She was sure he already knew, but unless she addressed it outright, she expected he would continue to deny whatever it was they had between them. His duty as a templar always came first. But that was what scared her. What if he still saw her as a mage before anything else?


	13. Asit Tal-eb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act 2. Serenity returns to Kirkwall, a couple of years after her departure from the city, and finds Cullen at the docks. With the growing tension in the city, she decides to stop by the Qunari compound.

When she landed in Kirkwall with M.C., Serenity didn't expect to see so many templars on the pier. She remembered there being only one stationed there before and now there were three. As the deck hands lowered a ramp, she wondered if the templars were going to board the ship in search of mages. But that seemed unlikely. After all, apostates would board the ships to get away from Kirkwall, not to sneak in.

She waited for the other travelers to disembark before following behind the crowd with M.C. As she climbed the stairs on her way into the city, she heard shouting and recognized Cullen’s voice. She hadn’t expected to see him there and thought to sneak past so she could at least bathe and make herself presentable before surprising him. But the temptation to eavesdrop outweighed the desire to wash the saltwater out of her hair. She wasn't sure when another opportunity to see him outside the Gallows would present itself. 

  
“What do you mean she just vanished? Have they inspected the cargo hold? Did she jump overboard?” Cullen asked.

“I had her under close watch, ser. We were in the middle of the ocean. There was nowhere for her to flee,” the templar answered.

“What about her phylactery?” he asked. “Have you checked it?”

“It, ah… it seems to have gone dark, ser.”

“You do know what that means, don’t you?" Cullen asked, exasperated. "Return to the Gallows and write your report. Do not spare a single detail.”

“Yes, ser,” the templar answered dejectedly and saluted before taking his leave.

Cullen wrote something on his clipboard and turned around, surprised to see Serenity standing but ten feet away with her mabari at her heel.

“Maker’s breath--" 

He felt the clipboard slip from his fingers. He fumbled as he tried to catch it and watched it hit the edge of the dock and land in the water. He couldn’t very well chase after it; the only thing more embarrassing than dropping his paperwork in the water would be falling in after it. He sighed, face palming because he could already hear her stifling a laugh.

She took far too much pleasure in the effect she had on him. If he wasn't fumbling with his words, he was fumbling with something else. For a while he had fooled himself into believing he didn't care what she thought. He had even told her so once. But what she thought mattered a great deal to him. 

He saw her smile turn into a look of concern as she jogged over to him. 

“Are you all right?” she asked as she knelt at the edge of the dock to try to catch his clipboard before it was lost to the depths of the sea.

“I, ah… I didn’t expect to see you there,” he said and watched as she bent over the edge of the cobbled pathway to fish his paperwork out of the water. He noticed first the shape of her hips and then the curve of her--

He pulled his eyes away from her and rubbed at the back of his neck as he tried to think of something to say. It had been months since he sent his missive to Vigil's Keep, and without any word back in all that time, he worried that something might have happened in Orlais. 

"I hope you don't mind my showing up unannounced," she said, standing up, and handed him the dripping clipboard and parchment. It was likely ruined anyway, but if the ink was even partially legible it would save him time rewriting it.

"No, I... I don't mind at all," Cullen said, clearing his throat. As much as he looked forward to receiving her letters, he preferred to see her and hear her voice. But he couldn't say that much. 

“It seems you never have a moment of rest. One of the apostates was lost in transit?” she asked. 

_Lost. Like so many others._

“Sometimes… they lose hope and they prefer not to come back,” Cullen said regretfully. “It is most likely she is dead. He should have known that. This is why it’s better to work in pairs. We cannot keep watch over a mage for several days without a moment of rest, and it is in the dark of night that they slip away. But with how many escaped mages we’re dealing with now, we don’t have enough men to spare.” 

“You don't think he might have killed her?" she asked.

"No. Not him," Cullen said. He couldn't feign ignorance of those that would just as soon 'cut their losses.' "It's not uncommon for mages to choose to end their struggle."

"You say that so matter-of-factly," she said. "You must see it often."

"More often than we should. It happened in Ferelden too, though perhaps not as often as it does here," Cullen answered. "I, ah... I should have written you and warned you not to come back. Right now, tensions are rising with the Qunari. The templars are the biggest military presence in Kirkwall, and we will be called on to defend the city should those tensions boil over. I would rather you not be in the city when that time comes. It could be any day now.”

“But it isn’t today. Do you have a moment to talk?” she asked and looked around.

They were outside, far enough from the Gallows and the Chantry that he could easily slip away for a few minutes without raising any suspicion. 

“Follow me,” he said and led her around a corner to a nook between two buildings. He knew where his templars were posted, and they would be out of their line of sight there. 

“Is there anything I can do to help with the situation unfolding?” Serenity asked. “I don’t know whether the Arishok would listen to me, but I doubt I would make matters worse.”

“No,” Cullen answered quietly, noticing then the granules of sand clinging to her face and hair. He remembered how awful he felt on his voyage across the Waking Sea and wondered how she could still look so lovely after spending days within the damp, cramped cabin below deck. “They’ve been lying to the Viscount all this time. They never had any intention of leaving. We still don’t know what they want, but I don’t think it can be resolved through talking.”

“How do you know they have no intention of leaving if they’ve said otherwise?”

“Marian Hawke has made a name for herself in Kirkwall over the last few years, and she’s dealt with the Arishok personally. He told her the truth,” Cullen answered.

“Hawke? I’ve heard that name before,” Serenity said. “A friend of Varric’s.”

Cullen chuckled softly, “She reminds me a little bit of you. Only more brash, with a sharper tongue.”

“Are you saying I need to work on my wit?”

“What? No,” Cullen answered quickly. “I only mean… she tends to involve herself in matters that she isn’t required to.”

“So, she and I are meddlers?” Serenity asked.

“No. Well, yes, I suppose you are," he said. "But you’re helpful meddlers, volunteering your service when it doesn’t serve you.”

Serenity subdued a laugh and said, “I can admit I meddle, usually at someone’s request though. If you need any help, you need but ask.”

“I, ah… I appreciate that,” Cullen said, “but the Knight-Commander has eliminated all work with outsiders. Our own men undergo weekly questioning. It’s best you stay far away from the Gallows while you’re here.”

“She doesn’t trust her own templars?” Serenity asked, surprised. “I hope you weren’t mad when you received my letter. I know you said it would carry too much risk to write each other. That’s the only reason I didn’t send you a second one.”

“I wasn’t mad, no,” Cullen chuckled softly. “I enjoyed your letter. But I am relieved you didn’t send another, not when the Knight-Commander reads all incoming mail. That’s how it is right now.”

He was tasked with reading much of the mail himself, and he had earned his way into Meredith's good graces. But it was her right to read anything that entered the Gallows, even if it was addressed to him. He would rather not take any chances. 

“There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t think I should put them in writing,” she said. “Did you find out what happened to the missing templar-recruits?”

“Yes, with Hawke’s help,” he answered. “A deranged blood mage was offering their bodies to demons to possess so she could infiltrate our ranks."

“Were you able to find any of the recruits you were searching for while I was still here?” she asked. She couldn’t remember their names, but he had gone to the Blooming Rose to find them. She would certainly never forget that.

“Keran survived and came away without any demonic influences. He was the lucky one,” Cullen said. “I’ve kept a close watch on him. What he went through, it reminds me of… what I went through. They fed on him, his energy and his fear. But they could not break him.”

“He walked away changed though,” Serenity said understandingly.

“It was not a good start for him, but he is proving himself. It will take him longer to attain knighthood than others because of what happened. The Knight-Commander still sees the risk he poses, even though others have proven he is not an abomination,” Cullen said. “There is distrust within the order now because of it.”

“But the blood mage responsible, she was killed or taken to Aeonar, wasn’t she?” Serenity asked.

“There are far more blood mages still trying to stir unrest within the Circle. We’ve found tomes, but more worrying is that they’ve ended up outside the Gallows too.” Cullen felt something press against his hand and looked down to see Mabari-Cullen nosing his gauntlet. He rubbed the top of the mabari’s head and smiled, surprised to have garnered his attention.

“Do you think it would have something to do with the Mage Underground?” she asked.

“It could be,” Cullen said, “but as trying as they are, I don’t think the Underground would knowingly help a blood mage. There is a thread tying the maleficarum together, but we haven’t found it yet. The enchanters can’t go to the bathroom without a templar watching them. We won’t have another Uldred here.”

“Is it really that bad?” Serenity asked uneasily.

“Not yet,” he answered softly, realizing how stern he sounded. He knew he could get riled up talking about blood magic and missing templars and abominations, but he didn’t want to scare her. “I, ah… I should return to my duties. But I will try to stop by the chantry in the next few days, when I can get away.”

He knew the risk. Even stealing a few minutes together wouldn't go unnoticed. Choosing to meet in the Chantry might not have been the most prudent suggestion, but his duties did take him there. It seemed less conspicuous than being seen in the alienage or the Hanged Man. How long would she stay this time? How would he explain their meetings if they drew the attention of the Knight-Commander? 

He was already considering his explanation. She was the Hero of Ferelden and a friend to the templars. Perhaps he could even say she came bearing news of Greagoir and the goings on within Kinloch Hold. But then, he thought, that might suggest she belonged to the Circle. Seeing her should not have been the cause of so much stress, not when seeing her brought so much relief. 

“I look forward to it,” Serenity said. “I’ve missed talking with you.”

“I, ah…” Cullen smiled and averted his eyes, feeling that familiar burn on his cheeks as her gaze bore into him. It was embarrassing how hard it was to look at her sometimes, but he felt his heart race and then his thoughts would stop and run into one another. All he could think about was how pretty she was in that moment and realized he hadn’t said a word. “Your promise to come back here gave me something to look forward to,” he confessed.

She made him feel like a person again. 

He still felt conflicted about his feelings for her. He knew it was considered immoral by the Chantry’s standards to have encouraged her to come back to him. Even if she was only formerly one of his charges, it was enough for them to see him as unfit. Mage sympathizers, especially in Kirkwall, were looked down upon. Meredith would question his loyalties if she knew. 

“Be safe, Cullen.”

* * *

  
Serenity watched him leave and stayed behind so nobody would see them come out of hiding together. When he’d said she gave him something to look forward to, she was certain she detected sadness in his tone. She had second thoughts about telling him she loved him then, if only to try to protect him from herself. She always felt like she was causing him undue pain by loving him. It felt selfish, but she couldn’t bear the thought of letting him forget her.

She worried the stress the templars were under with that new layer of fear and distrust within the order would create more animosity towards their charges. Templars were always so sure of themselves and their righteousness. If the Knight-Commander was sowing seeds of doubt in her ranks, it would only intensify the blame they put on mages.

She remembered as she traversed the city’s many paths and staircases just how much she hated Kirkwall. One of its only saving graces was that it didn’t smell as bad as it looked because of the breeze coming from the sea. 

She stopped in front of the Qunari compound. Two years prior, she had heard about the dreadnought that shipwrecked, leaving the Arishok and the Antaam stranded in Kirkwall. It surprised her to learn they remained in the city still. She was fairly certain Sten was not among them. After he returned to Par Vollen, he was sent to assist the Antaam in Seheron. But she was curious what kept the Arishok in Kirkwall if his intention was not to land there. 

_Maybe he lost his sword,_ she thought. 

Cullen had urged her not to meddle, but Serenity marched to the beat of her own drum. She only wanted to introduce herself. 

A Qunari soldier stood in front of the wooden gate, but Serenity wasn’t sure what kind of Qunari he was. He did not look like Sten. He didn’t wear heavy armor, but she recognized the vitaar on his skin, which served the same purpose. 

“Why do you approach?” the Qunari asked. 

“I would like to meet your Arishok,” Serenity answered. “If he would receive me. Is it customary to bring a gift?” 

“No,” the Qunari answered. “The Arishok has no need for bas. He will not hire.” 

“I am not here for work,” she answered.

“Strange,” he answered and pushed the door open for her.

She forgot just how bloody tall the Qunari were, and she had never seen so many in one place. She had only ever seen three in the same room before—when Sten fought two Tal-Vashoth mercenaries. They would be a destructive force if they decided to conquer Kirkwall. Although the templars were a powerful army unto themselves and the city guard were not to be underestimated, she expected Kirkwall might have to utilize the mages in their Circle to defend the city.

“Kost, Arishok,” Serenity said as she approached the steps. “I am honored to meet you. My name is Serenity Surana, Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden.” 

“Shanedon,” the Arishok answered, bowing his head respectfully. “You are the one named Qunoran vehl by your people. Yet, you live. Do you still serve your purpose?” 

“I do,” she answered. “My purpose has no end. The darkspawn still live and multiply. I still fight them.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“In Kirkwall? Or standing before you?” she asked. 

He grunted and answered, “Both.” 

“I am learning how better to serve my purpose, how to conquer the darkspawn more efficiently and how to reverse the disease they cause,” she answered. “My purpose is not as simple as killing the darkspawn. It is to save the Grey Wardens. That sometimes requires deviating from my mission to complete another.” 

“This, I understand.”

“I came here to meet you because Sten of the Beresaad spoke of the Antaam. It is coincidence that I crossed your path.” 

“He is now Kithshok in Seheron,” the Arishok answered. “The experience he gained under your leadership was valuable. It is an irony that is not lost on me.” 

“He is an exemplary warrior. I trusted him with my life,” Serenity said. “He was the only one who understood without judgment when I killed the imesaar-bas. He said it was 'unexpected.'”

“You are bas-saarebas, but you acted as basvaarad. It is not your purpose, but _ebasit_ ,” the Arishok answered, intrigued. “You are basalit-an. Not like the basra in this city, content to wallow in filth, wandering lost, without purpose. Do you see how they struggle?” 

“I do,” Serenity answered. “But I would not want to see a Qunari invasion, not even of this hideous place.” 

“If the Qun requires us to intervene, then it will be so.”

“There are people here I care about that will resist,” Serenity said. “I pray I do not have to face you in battle, but… sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit. You have my respect, Arishok.”

“Panahedan, Warden-Commander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Qunlat translations:**
> 
> Kost - peace
> 
> Shanedon - I'll hear you
> 
> Qunoran vehl - Hero/Mentor (declared after death) 
> 
> Kithshok - General of an army in Seheron
> 
> imesaar-bas - Child abomination 
> 
> basvaarad - Qunari equivalent of a templar, they are the keepers of saarebas (mages) 
> 
> ebasit - it is
> 
> basalit-an - worthy of respect
> 
> basra - cattle
> 
> sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit - It is my purpose to do what I must for those I consider important.
> 
> panahedan - goodbye/'take refuge in safety'


	14. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity falls into the hands of Otto Alrik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for physical abuse!

Serenity rented an apartment in the alienage and took a bath as Mabari-Cullen settled in at the foot of her bed. She left him to take his nap while she went to the market for supper. Ordinarily she would have taken him with her, but she wanted to surprise him with one of the giant ham hocks she’d seen him drooling over earlier. It always made her happy to see how excited he was when she brought him gifts.

On her way back into the alienage, she noticed two templars looking around. She thought perhaps a child had come into magic. But then one of the elves pointed at her, and the templars walked her way. 

“Halt,” the older templar ordered and rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “We’ve received word that you are an apostate. You’re coming with us to the Gallows.” 

“I am a Grey Warden,” Serenity corrected him. She hadn’t cast a single spell since her arrival, but she hadn’t yet changed into her plainclothes. 

The templars exchanged looks. The younger one was having second thoughts, but the first insisted, “We’ve been looking for a blonde elf suspected of blood magic. Knight-Commander Meredith will want to speak with you.” 

“The Blight is over,” the younger one said. “The Wardens don’t have any power or influence here. Not unless the darkspawn come out again.”

She found that disrespectful and alarming. Would they really try to take away her autonomy because they didn’t _need_ her anymore? Weisshaupt was on the same continent, but it was far away and it wasn’t as if the Wardens there were expecting her. If the templars did try to imprison her, she didn’t think anyone would know where to look for her… if they even thought to.

But Cullen was the Knight-Captain in Kirkwall, she reminded herself. Even if the Knight-Commander overstepped her bounds, she believed Cullen would do what was right, even if he couldn’t outright free her. He could at least inform the Wardens that she was being held captive if worse came to worst. 

“All right,” she said. “I will meet with your Knight-Commander to answer any questions she has about my presence here.” 

She thought she could lie, saying it was a stop on her way to Weisshaupt. Simple enough and easy to believe. But she did not like having to set foot in the Gallows. Being there gave her a sense of unease, like the blood of the slaughtered slaves and mages had seeped into the stone, haunting the grounds with a residual energy. In fact, she was certain of it. Whoever thought to utilize the prison as a Circle hadn’t the simplest understanding of the veil. That place had seen so much death and suffering, it was no wonder they had so many instances of possession. If demons weren’t sneaking in through pin holes in the veil, they were at least finding it easier to invade the dreams of the mages there. 

“Good choice. We have been authorized to kill any mages who resist,” he warned her. 

“Allow me to put my groceries away,” she said and continued to her hovel with the templars on her heels. Why was he threatening her when she already offered to cooperate? She left the bags inside and left the door ajar so Mabari-Cullen was not trapped inside. 

“Stay,” she whispered, gesturing with her hand. She couldn’t have him trying to board the boat to the Gallows. “The templars are taking me across the lake. If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, find Varric.”

“Who are you whispering to?” the older templar asked, peering over her shoulder. 

“My dog,” she answered and moved aside as he pushed the door open to look inside. 

“You’re a strange one. Let’s go.” 

“If you truly are a Warden, what business do you have in Kirkwall?” the younger templar asked. 

“This is just a waypoint on my way to Weisshaupt,” she said. “I’ve only just arrived from Ferelden.”

“Do you know how many mage criminals we have pretending to be someone they’re not running around here?”

“No. I would think they would want to run around somewhere with fewer templars. Antiva, maybe?” She knew they were leading her down the steps toward the docks and they would board a boat to the Gallows. But she had a sinking feeling in her gut. “Perhaps I should meet with her in the chantry.”

“You’re meeting with the Knight-Commander, not the Grand Cleric.” 

“Perhaps I should also meet with the Grand Cleric,” she reasoned. “And the Viscount while I’m here.”

The templar narrowed his eyes at her and gestured for her to board the boat at the docks. “If you want to make their acquaintance before you leave Kirkwall, we won’t stop you. But you’ll meet with the Knight-Commander first. You don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Is she waiting?” Serenity asked as she stepped into the boat. “If you didn’t know I’m a Grey Warden, why would she be waiting to see me?” 

“She questions all apostates,” he answered. “You were reported. We were sent to collect you.” 

When they arrived in the Gallows, the templars escorted Serenity up the steps and inside the prison. She had only stepped foot in the courtyard before and it was enough to twist her stomach in knots. But being inside, the air was heavy and stifled. It felt wrong. 

She looked for Cullen, but she didn’t see him in the courtyard or the corridor. She started to wonder if she was imagining how the air felt, whether it was just dreary because of the architecture and décor or if she was right to assume the veil was thin from the history of death, paired with the use of magic—supposing they even taught their mages how to harness their power and hone their talents. Just on their way in, she heard an apprentice complaining the templars had confiscated their staves. 

“You will wait in a cell until the Knight-Commander can see you.”

“A cell?” Serenity repeated, stopping at the threshold of the barred room. 

“You're under suspicion. You are to be considered an apostate until we’re told different. Get inside. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, stepping into the cell as she took the Warden’s signet ring from her pocket and showed it to him. “Is this proof enough for you?”

“You can find those at the Lower market since the battle of Ostagar. Just calm down and be patient. You won’t be here long if you’re telling the truth.”

Serenity knew it was futile to argue. She considered asking them to find the Knight-Captain, but she didn’t want to let on that Cullen knew her. She flinched when the iron door slammed with a clang and went to lie down on the cot in the corner, hoping the Knight-Commander would see reason. 

* * *

  


It was well after sundown when Serenity heard the armored footfalls of a templar approaching her cell. She sat up attentively, expecting to see either Cullen or the Knight-Commander there for her, but she didn’t recognize the man that stood in front of her.

“Hello,” she greeted him apprehensively. 

“You must be my new mage.” The templar was bald, bearded, and brightly blue-eyed. Something about him unnerved her. She assumed by the unnatural hue of his irises that he was a lyrium addict. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve been misbehaving,” he said, tapping against one of the iron bars. “It is my job to remind you of where you belong.” 

“You are mistaken,” she answered and stood up. “I belong to the Grey Wardens.” 

“A Grey Warden?” he asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “You must be a powerful mage.” 

“Knight-Commander Meredith wished to speak with me. I came here voluntarily, but I didn’t expect to be treated like a prisoner,” she said, refraining from addressing his assumption. She knew a templar could spot an enchanted robe from a mile away. There was no point in denying she had magic, but she didn’t intend to tell him just how powerful her magic was. 

“You must be hungry,” he said and unlocked her cell. “Come with me.” 

Serenity was relieved to be let out, but she still didn’t trust him. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. “What do I call you, Ser?”

“You can continue calling me Ser,” he answered. His name was Otto Alrik, but he did not care for her to know it. “What do you think of blood magic? Is it true that some of the Grey Wardens practice it?”

“The Grey Wardens are allowed to use whatever means necessary to end the Blight and defeat the Archdemon. Even so, it is discouraged. I was a Circle mage before I became a Grey Warden,” she said. “I still abide by the Chantry’s laws.” 

“I’ve heard rumors that a mage of interest to us here in Kirkwall is a Grey Warden,” he said, gauging her reaction for any flicker of recognition. “Are you sure that’s not the reason you’re here?”

“Is that why I've been treated so rudely?” she asked. “What is the Warden's name and what have they done to draw the attention of the templars?”

“Our investigations have come up with the name Anders,” he answered. “He’s evaded us thus far, but we know he moves about freely through the city. We can’t have that now, can we?”

Serenity hadn’t expected to hear his name, but she was not surprised. She’d hoped he would have found a place to be free, but deep down she knew he would seek justice. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had been there all along, leading the Mage Underground. 

“I've heard of him,” Serenity said, decidedly leaving out the part about conscripting him. “The Wardens have reason to apprehend him as well.” 

Alrik led her to a door, guarded by a templar. “Ser Adrian, if you’ll come with us.” 

“I hope I do not make you nervous,” Serenity said uncertainly. 

“It is standard procedure for templars to work in pairs,” Alrik assured her as Adrian opened the door, revealing a set of stairs leading down. “After you.”

Serenity wasn’t familiar with the Circle tower here, but she had become accustomed to downstairs from the ground floor leading to bad places, whether they were crypts, jails, dungeons, sewers, or mazes inhabited by darkspawn. She knew she had no choice but to comply. 

When they reached the bottom, Alrik cast Silence on her and said, “I have some tests I would like to perform on you, Warden, and I want answers.”

“You are either very stupid or stark raving mad,” Serenity said, turning around to face him as she moved further into the room, trying to maintain her distance from them as Adrian drew his sword and kept his shield held high. 

Alrik looked alarmed, undoubtedly surprised his attempt to cut her off from the Fade was unsuccessful, especially considering how much lyrium flowed through his veins, powering his abilities.

“Do not resist, Warden,” he warned her. “You are in the belly of the Gallows. You won’t leave here alive if you slay a templar.” 

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, eyeing Adrian as he circled her to prevent her escape behind her. 

She was feigning confidence. She knew she could kill them, but she was pretty sure she would get lost trying to find her way out, and by the time she did gain her bearings, the alarms would be sounded. She could try exploring deeper into the dungeon, almost certain there was a way out other than the way from which they came, but she didn’t know how many more knights she would have to face. Her Spellfury had been confiscated. She didn’t need a staff to fight, but she did feel vulnerable without it. 

“Be vigilant, Ser Adrian. Run her through if she casts a spell,” Alrik said and picked up a pair of shackles hanging from a hook on the wall. “Don’t force my hand, Warden. You might have resisted Silence, but I didn’t become a Knight-Lieutenant without honing my abilities. I have slain hundreds of mages, some powerful enough to command demons. Give me your hands.” 

“What do you intend to do?” Serenity asked, stiffening as he closed the distance between them. Killing him would be justified, she thought, but the Knight-Commander would never see it that way. She would be hunted. She would lose everything if she fought back. 

“I intend to find out just how strong you are,” he answered. 

She hoped she could still talk her way out of his experimentation as she raised her hands up for him to secure her wrists in iron. “I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I have powerful friends. There will be consequences to your actions.”

“Ah, yes, the Hero of Ferelden. I’d heard she was an elf. Just as pretty as the rumors say,” he smiled and lifted the chain between the shackles over a hook hanging from the ceiling so her arms were outstretched over her head. “Strip her. Her robes look Tevinter. They’re heavily enchanted.” 

“I’m also the Warden-Ambassador to the throne!” she shouted and twisted away from the templar as he reached for her. “Keep your hands off me!” 

“Your king,” Alrik chuckled, “he is new to the throne, isn’t he? I doubt he could afford to go to war with the Free Marches after his country was ravaged by darkspawn and his Circle broken by maleficarum. Is that what you’re hoping he’ll do?” 

“The Order of the Grey Wardens are not limited to Ferelden. If the First Warden of Weisshaupt knew—” 

“If they knew!” Ser Alrik interjected, reaching out to grip her jaw in his hand as her robes were untied, torn at the seams, and thrown aside. “They don’t know, do they? Are they any more aware of your presence here as they are your friend's? Do they even care?” 

“I… I demand to speak to your Knight-Captain!” Serenity tried to stay the trembling in her voice, but she was scared. He was mad, and somehow, he knew she was helpless and alone, in spite of her title and the company she kept. 

“The Knight-Captain and I are not on speaking terms,” he said and released her chin to look her over. “He disagrees with my solution to our problem. He gets so caught up in the details, he doesn’t see the bigger picture. The Knight-Commander will come around. She knows we cannot continue with more of the same. We’re losing a war.” 

“He's your superior!” she shouted and turned her head to look at the silent templar whose face was hidden behind his helmet. “You have to know this is wrong! How can you be accomplice to this?”

“It's for the good of Kirkwall,” he answered coldly.

“We serve the Maker,” Alrik said, letting his eyes fall on her pale, unblemished skin. “You must understand, Warden. Your order will go to any length to end the Blight, will they not? My order will go to any length to protect the faithful. We are the righteous right hand of the Maker, shepherds protecting His flock from the wolves in sheep’s clothing.” 

“What is the purpose of debasing me like this?” Serenity asked. “What do you hope to gain from it?” 

“I want to know how far you need to be pushed before you become an abomination,” Alrik answered as he pulled the leggings and shoes from her feet, inspecting the magical inscriptions on them. 

“You’re going to be disappointed,” she glared. 

“We’ll see,” he said as he cut away her undergarments, leaving her completely revealed and vulnerable. “You have no ink or scars marring your skin. Surprising for one who claims to have fought the Archdemon.” 

“You’d be amazed what a good healer can do,” she muttered.

“Have you ever fought a templar before, Warden?” 

“No,” she lied. “I've fought beside templars. I know what you are capable of, and you will not break me.”

“We’ll see,” he said again and raised his hand with a Holy Smite. His smile fell when he did not elicit the reaction he’d expected. He thought stripping her would make her weaker, but she was stronger than he’d anticipated. She hadn’t even winced. 

“You won't cross the Fade when you die, templar. You'll be torn apart by demons,” she hissed.

“That sounds like blood mage talk,” he said and moved closer to press his fingers against her forehead. “That alone is reason enough for you to be made Tranquil.”

“You are not worthy to stand by the Maker's side, you monster.” Serenity spat in his face and braced herself when he raised his hand to slap her. The blow still jarred her, blurring her vision briefly before her cheek throbbed with a dull ache. 

_This is nothing,_ she thought, trying to reassure herself. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she would not allow herself to break. She had been shot with arrows, burned by emissaries, whipped through the air by a dragon’s tail. She would not let herself be broken by a man. 

Alrik cast Righteous Smite, pleased when she clenched her fists and her whole body tensed as if receiving an electric shock. She was not yet screaming as he wanted her to, but he knew she was not as resistant as she hoped to be. “Tell me about Anders,” he ordered.

 _Anders._ Her friend.

“I don’t know anything,” she muttered, her heart racing. “He left the Wardens years ago.”

“You would protect him still,” he said. “I know you left something unspoken when you heard his name. You know him well. You are one of his conspirators, aren’t you?” 

“No. He ran away!” 

“Stop resisting, Warden. Is he worth protecting? You needn’t be punished for his crimes. If you would only give him to me,” he said and cast Righteous Smite again. 

She gasped and groaned as tears welled up in her eyes and the burning of the smite intensified and seared under her skin like the crack of a hundred whips. He waited for her answer.

_He is worth protecting._

She remembered the way Anders held her face in his hands when she cried. She tried to imagine the gossamer strands of magical energy that clung to her skin like static when he healed the tension headache behind her eyes. If he were kept in shackles beneath the Gallows, she would have fought her way through the sewers to retrieve him. 

“Even if I did know where he was, I wouldn’t give him to you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, watching her shiver like she’d been pulled from a tub of ice. “The fire is cleansing if you allow it to engulf you. When I break you, will you let the light of the Maker in? Or will you let the darkness out?” 

When he cast Staggering Smite, she lost the strength in her legs and felt the weight of her body crushing her wrists bound above her head. She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut to try to block out the white fire that burned from inside her, blinding her to the world around her. Her heart pounding in her ears was deafening. She felt sensitive to everything – the pounding in her head, the residual phantom aura in her vision, the scrape of his tongue across the bruise on her cheek. 

  
_Let me in._

  
_I can set you free._

  
Serenity’s eyes shot open at the familiar guttural growl in her head. 

_No,_ she thought. _I will not break. My will is stronger than his. It is stronger than yours._

“I can almost hear the words on the tip of your tongue,” Ser Alrik grinned. “’Please stop.’ Say it if you like. Perhaps I will show you mercy.” 

Serenity met his vibrant blue eyes and held his gaze as she tried to maintain control of her breath. Her throat felt constricted even before he put his hand around it and squeezed. She knew it aroused him to humiliate her, but she would do nothing to please him. She would not struggle or beg. 

“You’re resilient,” he said with a hint of admiration. “Stronger than the rest. But how much will you endure? Do you hear them yet? The infernal whispers of demons? Will you accept their offer… or will you accept mine?” 

“No,” she answered hoarsely. 

Alrik chuckled, noticing how she winced when he touched her again. “Would you like me to make you bleed? Do you think you could control my mind before Adrian runs you through? Or would you try to boil my blood within my veins?” 

She would have denied being a blood mage if it didn’t hurt to speak. She was almost sure she could taste blood at the back of her throat. Even if he provided her the opportunity, she would not take it. 

_Cullen_ , she thought desperately. If she fought back, she would lose him. She couldn’t fight back. She wouldn’t. 

“You are too resilient to be trusted with magic. I know you are the Warden that conscripted the fugitive we’re after. If you survive, I am going to make you Tranquil and keep you as my personal servant. You are a fine plaything,” he said and cast Holy Smite, pleased that the weaker spell had the effect he wanted. She was too weak to stand, but she still only groaned and whimpered behind closed lips. He wanted to hear her scream. Smiting a mage once was usually enough to incapacitate them. But he knew she was close. She was either close to giving in or falling apart. “The Knight-Commander will believe me when I tell her you fought back. They always do.” 

Serenity forced herself to her feet, gripping the hook that held the chain, and struggled to maintain her balance. She shook so hard it felt like tightly wound wire cutting into her wrists where the shackles held her. She knew it didn’t matter that Alrik hadn’t the authority to enact the rite. But she couldn’t put two thoughts together to try to save herself. All she could feel was pain. 

“You still try to stand?” he asked. “How much more do you think you can take?” He cast Holy Smite again and grinned when she lost whatever strength she’d mustered to upright herself and screamed. “There it is! What a pretty sound you make.”

Serenity couldn’t lift her head to see what was happening. Whatever Alrik said sounded muffled, like he was underwater, behind the ringing in her ears. Only one voice broke through the haze as clear as a crystal bell.

  
_Let me in._

  
“Ser!” Adrian alerted his superior to the approaching footsteps on the other side of the door at the opposite end of the room.

“Hold them off!” Alrik shouted. 

As Adrian ran towards the door to block their entry, Alrik retreated through one of the many tunnels running beneath the Circle. He was angry, thinking he was on the verge of breaking through, but he had slowed down, pushing her little by little towards absolution. He believed she would have chosen, given just a little more time. 

“What in the Maker’s name—” Adrian panicked as he tried to block the weight of the mabari that leapt at him, but even with his shield, he went stumbling backwards. He turned nervously, following the war hound as it circled around him so its jaws wouldn’t tear him apart. The distraction left his back open to the bolt that pierced his armor and stuck in his shoulder. He cried out and turned around to face his attacker only to be overwhelmed and pinned down by the mabari behind him. 

* * *

  
There was no preparing Cullen for how it felt to see Serenity there, hanging helplessly from her wrists. He ran across the room, dropping his sword and shield so he had both hands free to lift the chain holding her from the hook. She couldn’t even stand. She didn’t speak or call out for him. He had her scream from behind the door they’d broken through, and it made his blood run cold.

“Serenity,” he said gently, steadying the tremble in his voice. 

He knew some of the templars tortured mages, whether the order was sanctioned by the Knight-Commander or not—and he loathed to think Meredith encouraged such abuses without reason. But how had Serenity fallen into the hands of such a templar? 

He lowered her to the ground, kneeling beside her, and held her gingerly in his arms as he looked her over for injuries. Aside from the bruise on her cheek, she didn’t have a mark on her. But he knew templars could do just as much harm to a mage without ever raising a sword. 

He loosened the pegs securing the shackles around her wrists and dropped them on the ground. He couldn't take his eyes away from them, noticing the dried stain of blood on the iron. It wasn't hers, but how many times had those same shackles been used down here? On mages suspected of blood magic? Or without cause? 

Serenity had no strength left to stand, barely able to raise her knees so she could lean into them to preserve some manner of modesty as she rested her head against his breastplate. She trembled uncontrollably, whimpering at the slightest movements and touches as they reignited the feeling of hot coals. Cullen’s hand on her shoulder, meant to comfort, felt like a knife as the cold edge of his gauntlet lightly brushed the surface of her skin. 

“Cullen,” she whispered tremulously and gasped. 

He felt his heart leap into his throat and lifted a health potion from his belt to her lips. “Drink this.” 

She tilted her head back and swallowed before sputtering and coughing from the way it burned on its way down. Health potions had never caused her pain before. But it felt like she just swallowed liquefied fire shards. 

“Slowly,” he cautioned her and drew his hand away just enough to give her space to breathe, but she gripped his arm in her hands and pulled it closer as if she thought he might leave her there. He felt the weight on his chest constrict his heart when she rested her cheek against his hand and cried, letting the tears flow freely that she’d withheld in the presence of Ser Alrik. He felt sick knowing she had been tortured by one from his order—and she hadn’t fought back. She was innocent. No matter how hard she was pushed, she didn’t fight back. It instilled rage and grief in equal parts. She had always been so trusting of his order and she was betrayed by it.

She cried for the betrayal, for her powerlessness, for the suffering she knew others needlessly endured, and for the fear she’d held at bay—the fear of death, the fear of losing, and the fear of how much she could tolerate. 

In all the time he’d known her, Cullen had never seen her so vulnerable. Though he had heard her voice waver and he had seen her when she was sad, he had never seen her cry. He had never heard the unrestrained keening that accompanied the release of pent up emotion. He wished there was something he could do, something more than he was doing. 

Although she was petite in stature, he’d never thought her fragile – but as she curled around his arm and wept against his hand, he knew she’d been subject to abuses she never imagined. Abuses he knew existed but hadn’t witnessed firsthand. Abuses he should have tried harder to stop. Abuses he could have prevented if he had only been more vigilant, more dedicated to protecting, more compassionate. Was it his fault this happened to her? 

He wanted to find the party responsible for what happened to her and see them punished most severely. But what would be suitable in the eyes of the Knight-Commander? What if it wasn’t enough? 

  
“You weren’t the one in charge, were you?” Varric asked, standing over Adrian. “Make it easier on yourself and tell us who else was in here.” 

“I… I can’t,” Adrian answered, keeping his eyes on the mabari that kept him pinned down with its paws on his chest, dripping drool onto his helmet as it bared its teeth. 

“What was that?” Varric asked, pressing on the crossbow bolt stuck in the templar’s shoulder with his boot. “Why don’t you say it again and make sure it’s an answer I like.” 

Adrian cried out and reached up to hold the bolt firmly. “I can’t! I serve the Maker! I will not falter in my dedication to the righteous path!” 

Varric pulled the templar’s helmet off and called out, “Hey, Curly, you recognize this guy?” 

Cullen glanced back at the templar in question and answered hollowly, “Yes. He’ll be stripped of his knighthood, at the very least.” 

Serenity calmed as the grief and fear and relief that overwhelmed her subsided and the uncontrollable muscle spasms waned in vigor. She pressed her lips to the rim of the vial and lifted Cullen’s hand to tilt it so the remainder of the health potion poured into her mouth. She strained to swallow it, but she didn’t let another drop go to waste. Would it be enough? 

“Cullen,” Serenity whispered. “Take me home.” 

“Home?” he asked, wondering where that was for her. “The alienage?” 

“No,” she answered quickly. “No, that’s where they took me from.” 

“Oh. You mean… I, ah… I live here, Serenity. In the templar’s quarters. It isn’t…”

“Please,” she whispered. 

Cullen could not say no. It wasn't as though he could just send her on her way when she couldn't even walk. He swallowed hard and reached for her robe to cover her with it before scooping her up in his arms to carry her up the steps. He knew who was on duty and where the patrols would be. It would be easy enough to sneak her into his room to recover overnight. 

“I should find First Enchanter Orsino,” he said. “He can heal you.” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. 

Serenity knew that also meant involving the Knight-Commander. Considering the hysteria involving blood magic and the accusations made against her, she couldn’t risk falling into her hands. It didn’t matter that she was the Warden-Commander. It didn’t matter that she didn’t break. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a Circle mage. She was accused. She was pushed to the edge. She’d heard the whispers of demons. She would be considered a risk. She would be looked at like she deserved it. Like she did something wrong. 

Varric gestured to the templar he’d tied to a post near the stairs. “You can come back for him later. Take care of the Warden first,” he said. “I’ll take care of her mabari at the Hanged Man.” 

“Thank you,” Cullen said, grateful Varric had crossed the lake and found him as quickly as he did. Most people might have put such a task off until morning. And by then… they would have been too late.


	15. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being tortured, Serenity is vulnerable in the Fade and too weak to defend herself without the aid of an old friend.

Serenity winced and stiffened at the feeling of Cullen’s armor, cold and scraping against her with every movement. It hurt to be touched, sending tendrils of pain deep under her skin like hot needles.

“You feel like a cactus,” she whispered.

“A cactus?” he asked, confused. 

“I accidentally sat on one once,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut to try to block out the pain as he leaned into her to push the door to his quarters open. “It hurts.”

“Who did this to you?” Cullen asked softly and carefully pulled the covers back on his bed before laying her down and covering her with the blankets. “ _What_ did he do to you…?” 

“I don’t know his name,” she answered between strained breaths. “Bald… with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” 

“I know of whom you speak,” Cullen muttered scornfully. “I will report him to the Knight-Commander as soon as it’s safe to leave you. He won’t walk away from this unscathed.”

Her body still trembled and her breathing was shallow. Her eyelids felt so heavy, it took all her strength to keep them open. Every word she managed to force from her throat took all of her breath. She felt her will to stay awake waning and closed her eyes. 

“He wanted to experiment on me,” Serenity murmured. Her voice was so quiet, Cullen had to lean in to hear her. “He smited me… over and over to see how much I could take before I turned.”

“I’ll find you a healer,” Cullen said softly, growing more concerned about her health. Even with the potion she drank, she seemed to be growing weaker by the minute. 

“No,” she said, reaching out to touch him. “I need you to watch over me. I’m susceptible now. He weakened my spirit so I cannot defend myself in the Fade from the creatures that do not ask permission.” She felt like her spirit was just a whisper on the wind, rather than a bright beacon in the dark. Perhaps she would be invisible still.

Cullen took her hand, dreading his greatest fear coming to fruition. Nothing would hurt more. “I will watch over you, Serenity. Be vigilant. Even at your weakest, your will is strong.”

“I can’t…” she murmured breathlessly and opened her eyes, realizing she was not where she thought she was. The Fade surrounded her. But she could still hear his voice. 

“You are the strongest person I know. I have faith in you,” Cullen continued softly, noticing her deepened breathing, and only hoped she would wake from her slumber still herself. “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker’s will is written.” 

_'You are weak.'_

Serenity turned to look up into Pride’s eyes of white fire. 

_'Stay back, demon. A templar stands over me, ready to strike me down.'_

_'His voice fades,'_ Pride said. _'He will not strike if he does not know you are possessed. I will not change you. I will merely be a passenger. My strength can heal you. You can wake up. You can live.'_

_'No! I do not consent! I do not invite you!'_ Serenity recoiled as the demon moved closer. _'I will tell him if you go against my will!'_

Pride faltered, scrutinizing her. _'You would have him kill you? Do you have the will to end your own life? Do you have the will to break his spirit?'_

_'How… how do you…'_

_'He is the templar that would not give in. I know of him,'_ Pride answered, circling around her in a wide berth as she followed him with her eyes. _'He appears in your dreams. Despair likes to feed on him when he sleeps.'_

Serenity summoned what little willpower she had to forge a staff out of light and said, _'Where is this Despair demon? I’ll kill it!'_

Pride threw his head back and laughed, _'This is why I like you, Warden. Even as you lay dying, you have the will to fight a battle you cannot win. But your wrath invites Rage.'_ He swiped at the molten spirits as they climbed out of the ground, eviscerating them. _'You do not have the will to bring the templar to harm, do you? Despair would feast on his grief. Would that grief finally break him?'_

_'If you possess me,'_ Serenity said, _'I will kill you in the Fade when I regain my strength.'_

_'Or will you lose yourself in the Fade as so many others do?'_

_'I will not forget where I am,'_ she said. _'How long do you think you will live? An hour? A day? It is not only one templar keeping watch over me. I am in the templar’s quarters at the Circle of Magi.'_

_'I have told you before,'_ Pride said, _'I will not force myself upon you. I am an opportunist, but I am no fool. Others will try, however. And you are too weak to defend yourself.'_

_'Are you proposing you will protect me?'_ she asked, unnerved by his jovial nature. She had read that Pride demons were among the most intelligent and conniving of spirits--they were the most like humans.

_'I can,'_ Pride answered. _'I can be your friend if you would only allow me. I have helped you before. I have been your teacher, your mentor, your friend. But you forget.'_

She did not forget the lesson she learned during her Harrowing. He taught her not to trust.

_'Nothing comes for free. What do you want?'_ she asked.

_'When you hear the Calling, give me your last year to experience the world.'_

Serenity considered the proposal. It was a long time from then and that time might never come should she die in battle or find the cure to her disease. But she could not endanger society with a demon that she would become too weak to control. 

_'I will give you my last week,'_ she answered. _'In the Deep Roads.'_

Pride grimaced, _'You insult me. I want to experience the world and its pleasures, not the worst of it and its sufferings! I want to see the world in color, not in darkness! I want what you mortals take for granted, not what you want to escape from.'_

_'I will bring you sweet cakes and confections, the smallest but greatest pleasures the world has to offer,'_ Serenity offered. _'And you will know my strength. You will wield my magic and overpower hordes of darkspawn. But you will not know love or friendship, outside of mine.'_

Pride's heavy breaths were the only sound to fill the silence. Serenity couldn't even hear her own heartbeat in the Fade. For a moment, that frightened her, thinking she might have died. But it was that pang of fear that elicited a response from the demon.

 _'I believe you,'_ he said. _'I accept your offer. A week for you may be more for me. If you gave me only a day, I could extend that time into a month with my strength.'_

As uneasy as the deal made her feel, Serenity knew if that time came, she would be alone. The world would be safe from whatever it was that she would become. And perhaps the demon could lend her the strength to do more good than she could in her weakened, diseased state. Pride would not let her be taken captive to be made a broodmother. He would save her from her greatest fears. He had promised her as much before. If he continued to go on living after her own spirit crossed the Fade, she knew her body would become an Arcane Horror.

But she had no intention of ever going down into the Deep Roads to answer the Calling, not if she could cure it.

_'Help me find Faith or Valor,'_ Serenity said. _'I need my spirit mended.'_

Pride chuckled wryly, pleased by how easily she allied with him in the realm of dreams. He would be her protector and earn her favor. She would be his friend. He knew she suffered the ailment of compassion. He knew the company she kept. She would find the value in his friendship and she would share the world with him. He could feel it. It wouldn't be like the last time. There had to be a reason he was drawn to her.

_'What were you before?'_ she asked finally. 

_'Why do you ask this question again?'_

_'Do you even know? Or have you forgotten where you came from?'_

_'I am what the Fade has made me,'_ answered Pride. _'I am what you see.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter - ' Muddy Waters by LP '


	16. Hope Has a Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity wakes to find Cullen at her bedside and seeks comfort in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW content towards the end.

“…In the long hours of the night, when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know Your Light remains. I have heard the sound, a song in the stillness, the echo of Your voice, calling creation to wake from its slumber.”

Cullen had many times recited the Canticle of Trials over the last several years, though never as many times as during those days alone at the top of Kinloch Hold so painfully etched in his memory. He hoped Serenity could hear him and find strength in the words as he once did. 

He had so much regret and so much fear now. What if he lost her? Without ever having told her how he felt? His only confession of feelings towards her had been made in anger and resentment. He held her hand clasped between his own and pressed his forehead against her knuckles as he prayed.

“…How can we know You? In the turning of the seasons, in life and death, in the empty space where our hearts hunger for a forgotten face? You have walked beside me down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me.” Cullen lifted his head when he felt her squeeze his hand and felt the tightness between his shoulders subside. “Are you…?” 

“I’m okay,” she whispered. 

Cullen kept his eyes on hers, looking for any sign that she might be lying. Sometimes the demons showed themselves unintentionally in the pupils of the possessed. But she seemed content just to hold his gaze. 

“I would sooner have died in the Fade than let a demon take me and cause you harm,” she assured him and sat upright with his help. “With the connection between realms severed, there would have been no risk of possession.” 

“You mean…?” 

“I would have become Tranquil,” she answered, letting her eyes rest on his hands clasped around hers. 

_Worse than death,_ he remembered. He hadn’t entirely understood how the procedure worked. He knew the rite of Tranquility severed the connection to the Fade, taking away a mage’s magic, and he knew it took something else from them. But he hadn’t realized it might have meant a spiritual death. He loathed to imagine her dying, either physically or spiritually, perhaps even more the latter. Her spirit was what made her. It was a sacrifice he was not surprised she was willing to make though. Had he been in her place, he would have considered the same. 

“How did you make it out?” he asked. 

“I sought the spirit of Valor to give me strength,” she said. 

“Thank the Maker.” He noticed then that she held the bedsheet up to cover her breasts and remembered he had laid her down as he’d found her. He released her hand to stand up and said, “I should let you get changed." 

“Wait. I have something for you,” she said, searching through the folds of her robe with one hand. She handed him the folded letter with his partially faded name written on it. The edges of the parchment looked worn and discolored by time and what looked like dried blood. She had come so close to losing herself. She would rather tell him now than wait until it was too late. 

“A letter…?” 

“It says some things I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she said hesitantly. 

Cullen wasn’t sure why she looked so nervous, but he turned around to face away from her and broke the seal on the letter. 

  
_Dear Cullen,_

_I know it must be hard for you living in the Circle after what happened. It probably feels like a prison. When you see their faces, smell the blood in the air, or hear their screams, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and think of me. Imagine what it was like before. Remember why you joined the order and what you said to me. You are a guardian, not only of the people but of the mages in your care. A little kindness goes a long way in that place._

_When I spoke to senior-enchanter Wynne earlier this week, I asked her if she’s afraid of dying. She is living on borrowed time, but she has no fear of death because she’s content with how she’s lived her life. She has no regrets about not doing one thing or another. When I learned what happens to the Grey Wardens in battle against the Archdemon, I had to ask myself: Am I content? Did I do enough?_

_My answer was no. I am still afraid of dying. I’ve traveled all over Ferelden and experienced things I’d never dreamt were within the realm of possibility. I’ve met so many people and found power within myself I didn’t know I had. But it isn’t enough. That is why I sat down to write you this letter. I needed to tell you that I still think about you, pray for you, and dream about you. I love you. If you’ve received this letter, I have crossed the Fade and stand at the Maker’s side. Know that I died fighting as bravely as I could. But if this letter finds you, I will have said what I couldn’t say before. Live your life dutifully and compassionately, honeybee. Do not sting, or you would be killing yourself. You are a good man and a good templar. Do not forget who you are._

_Serenity _  
__

  
__Cullen’s hands trembled as he read it twice and then three times, realizing how long ago she had written it. She thought she was going to die in the battle against the Archdemon and thought of him, even then. It made his heart ache to think of how he had tried to push her away._ _

_Honeybee_ , he remembered fondly. 

__“All this time…?” he asked and turned to face her, surprised to see her standing in front of his bed wearing only the white chemise she wore under her robes. He could see the curve of her waist and the shape of her breasts beneath it. “I, ah…” he started, averting his eyes for just a moment as he tried to gather his composure. He knew she wanted him to look at her._ _

__Serenity took a step closer so she could take his hand, enveloping the letter between them, and answered softly, “All this time.”_ _

__He couldn’t discourage her or distance himself from her, not this time. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel the same way. It would have hurt too much to deny his feelings for her—or hers for him. It was more than he ever expected or could have asked for. He felt it was more than he deserved. He glanced down at her hand on his and gently pulled her closer as he leaned down to meet her lips.__

* * *

____  
Serenity felt all of her fear of rejection melt away, replaced by a familiar flutter in her stomach as he kissed her, gently at first.

“I… don’t still feel like a cactus, do I?” he asked quietly.

“No. You feel good,” she answered. She closed her eyes and reciprocated with restrained fervor, pressing her lips against his until she felt him give into his desire and kiss her harder. She felt lightheaded as she stood on her toes and teetered in his embrace, held steady by his arm around her waist. She ran her hand through his hair, tangling her fingers in his curls, and gasped softly against his lips.

She needed this. She needed him. To finally feel his lips against hers, the weight of his hands on her, to finally run her fingers through his hair as she did in every dream she met him in, and to inhale his scent and commit it to memory. It reminded her of that night she got lost in Sundermount. The smell of trees and moss, moist with the morning dew.

Holding her close, Cullen brushed his lips against her cheek and said, “All this time, I’ve loved you, but I’ve tried not to, and somehow that hurt more.”

Serenity tilted her head to kiss him again as she leaned into him, at the same time trying to pull him closer by the red sash affixed around his waist.

Cullen realized how aroused he was becoming and gently pulled away from her. “That was…” he trailed off, unable to think of a suitable word to describe how good it felt to give in.

Serenity held his arm and stood on her toes to kiss his chin as she tugged on his gauntlet. “—not enough,” she said. They were finally alone, able to speak freely and touch one another. One kiss was not enough. “I want more.”

Cullen chuckled and met her lips softly as she removed his gauntlet. “What are you doing?”

She held his hand and turned, taking a step backwards towards his desk to set his gauntlet down. Sitting against the edge of his desk, she drew his hand to her lips. When he caressed her face, she pressed her cheek into his palm, content to feel his bare skin against hers. “I’ve wished for you to touch me for so many years,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “Just like this.” 

“I thought I would only ever touch you in my dreams,” Cullen confessed.

Her heart raced at the thought of him meeting her in his dreams like she met him in hers. Would they ever be alone like this again? 

She wanted to be closer to him, as close as she could be. She doubted she would ever have a chance to tell him she felt, let alone show him. She was in his room, in only her shift. She knew how timid he could be, but she wasn’t sure how pious he was. Would it be an offense for her to suggest more? 

“You said I was the one thing you wanted but could never have,” Serenity whispered as she guided his hand down to cover her breast. “But you can have me now.”

He didn’t pull away from her. His hand was warm. She thought maybe he could feel how hard her heart was pounding against his palm. But he was hesitant. 

“I was too forward, wasn’t I?” she asked nervously and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I just… want to be closer to you.”

“No,” Cullen answered quickly. “I want that too. I just… wonder if you’re really okay. You just experienced something… traumatic. I can’t help wondering if this is what you really want, or…” 

“If I just want to feel something else?” she asked and assured him, “That’s not it. I… I don’t know when I’ll be okay. But right now, in this moment, I’m alone with you. It’s all I’ve thought about for months—no, years. Just the two of us. I won’t let him take that from me.”

* * *

  
She was so soft and so beautiful. She always knew just what to say to put his mind at ease. He didn’t want her to associate what happened to her with what was happening now. But he knew it wasn’t fair to assume she would. It felt like just moments before he was wishing he could do more to comfort her. Now she was asking him… and offering him the same comfort he longed for for so long.

Cullen slid his hand lower, following the curve of her waist to rest his hand on her hip as he pressed his forehead against hers. He couldn’t bear to think of the hollow feeling he would be left with when she left his quarters. Her lips grounded him with a kiss and quieted the worries that gave him pause as she took his other gauntlet in her hands and struggled to pull it off.

He set her letter aside and removed his glove the rest of the way, watching as her eyes wandered over his armor. She settled on a buckle on his arm and started there.

“I don’t remember your armor having quite so many buckles,” she said, pulling the leather strap free.

“That’s because they were hidden behind the heavy plate,” he answered, wondering just how much thought she had given to removing his armor before. “We wore chainmail in Ferelden too.”

“You must prefer the lighter armor,” she said, watching as he unbuckled the pauldron from his breastplate. “I remember Oliver nearly passing out from the heat when he came in from guarding the docks.”

“Inside the tower, where the temperature is kept under control, wearing so many layers was more bearable,” he said as he set the piece of armor aside. “But in the summer heat? No one wearing fifty pounds of plate and a long robe further weighted down by chainmail wants to run across the countryside.”

He was relieved to hear her speak so casually. He was nervous. Maybe she sensed it. Or maybe she was too. But her hands weren’t shaking as she tugged on another buckle. She still looked up at him, holding his gaze with a smile.

_I still think about you, pray for you, and dream about you. I love you._

He knew he had nothing to be nervous about. She wasn’t going to laugh at him or judge him or reject him. She loved him. As much as he loved her.

“And here I thought there were fewer escape attempts made in winter because the mages were afraid of freezing to death,” she said, unbuckling the pauldron from his other shoulder.

“It’s unpleasant, but we are trained to endure the uncomfortable conditions,” he said, watching her face. He wondered if it should have felt strange or inappropriate to discuss such matters at a moment like this, but any conversation he had with her always came naturally. He’d always thought there was something special about how comfortable she was speaking with him. “It… doesn’t bother you to talk about templars?”

“No,” she answered softly. “You, Oliver, Bran, and Hadley remind me of home. I miss them sometimes too. I don’t want to talk about the one that hurt me. But I still want to talk about you.”

Cullen caressed her hair, certain he just felt himself fall deeper in love with her. He would never utter Otto Alrik’s name in her presence, just as she avoided Uldred’s in his. “You can ask me anything you like.”

“Did you enjoy the training?” she asked, tugging gently at the red sash around his waist. “I remember you telling me a little bit about it a long time ago.”

Cullen felt his heartrate quicken and answered, “I enjoyed the training, even more so when I felt challenged. There is more to the training than just learning how to swing a sword or silence a spell. Others might not have enjoyed the studying as much as I did, but I found reading about the history of Thedas fascinating.”

“I remember asking you for a list of your favorite books,” she said, watching him remove the tassets from his armor before helping him remove his breastplate. “Some of them were a bit dry for my liking, like the 'Legend of Lake Calenhad'—”

“You found that reading dry?” Cullen asked, surprised, almost certain she was blushing. She had never seen him without his armor. “Maker’s breath. I’m glad I hadn’t recommended the 'History of the Chantry.'”

“That was already required reading in the Circle,” Serenity said and knelt down to help him remove his boots. “I might have fallen asleep reading chapter two. But I did enjoy 'Cautionary Tales for the Adventurous.' You know, at first I thought you had included that on your list as a joke to dissuade me from being audacious.”

“I did,” Cullen chuckled, brushing a strand of her hair back over her ear when she stood up. “And then I read it and realized just how dark and dreary it was. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“You recommended a book to me without reading it first?”

“I knew you liked 'Dane and the Werewolf,'” he said. “I thought that one might be in the same vein. I… was mistaken.”

“Haven’t you heard you can’t judge a book by its cover?” she teased.

He chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss her lips as he placed his hands on her waist and gently guided her back towards his bed. This was new to him, but he wasn’t nervous—not anymore, anyway. She had distracted him from getting inside his own head. But he did consider how small she was and knew she had only just woken up from near death. There was a worry in the back of his mind that he might hurt her.

“I hope you’ll give me a new reading list,” she said as she started unbuttoning the collar of his robe. “I will give you mine.”

“I will,” he said, feeling his heart skip as she opened the last button. “I, ah… I read 'Journeys of the Wardens' and 'The First Blight'… after you left. But I think you would like the 'Ballad of Ayesleigh.'”

“I would like you to read it to me someday,” she said. "You're right about my preference for poetry and adventure over history lessons, but I find it endearing that you took such an interest in the Grey Wardens when I joined them."

"I feared the worst," he admitted. "You had only just passed your Harrowing and they were thrusting you into a war against darkspawn. I... I didn't know if I would ever see you again."

"I'll always come back to you," she promised and traced her fingertips over the Spellward he had tucked behind his tunic. “You’re wearing it.”

“It reminds me of you every morning I put it on and every night when I take it off,” he answered and carefully lifted the chain from around his neck to set it aside. 

“Then, you're thinking of me when I'm thinking of you,” Serenity said, sliding the straps of her chemise off her shoulders so it fell to the floor and she stood naked before him. She held her breath as his eyes fell to her breasts and lower.

“You’re beautiful,” Cullen said, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a breath and gripped his robe to pull it off over his head and dropped it on the floor. Any hesitation he felt was overridden with the instinct to match her vulnerability.

* * *

  
“So are you,” Serenity said, moving closer to wrap her arms around him as she met his lips with a kiss. She hadn’t really known exactly what to expect, seeing as how he was always hidden beneath so many layers—but he was a soldier, toned and tempered by the long hours he spent on his feet, wielding a sword and shield almost as often as he did a pen and parchment. Her hands roamed over his back as she kissed him, pressing her body against his.

With his arm around her waist, Cullen guided her back into his bed and laid her down as she wrapped her arm over his shoulders. With his knee resting on the edge of the mattress, he pushed his pants and underwear down his hips and shed them as he moved further up the bed with her. Serenity was relieved he wasn't holding back or slowing down. He didn't stop to question whether what they were doing was unethical or unnatural. He didn't stop to think he was the Knight-Captain lying with a mage. Any insecurities she felt about being an elf or a mage or even a Grey Warden dissipated with how he looked at her.

She could feel the heat emanating from his skin as he lay between her legs, though he rested his weight on his arm and didn’t crush her beneath his hips. She held his face in her hands as he broke their kiss, happy he didn’t shy away from holding her gaze as she traced his jaw with her fingertip. She never wanted to forget how it felt to be with him, to feel the heat of his bare skin against hers and the weight of his body pressing down on her. 

“You make me feel whole,” she whispered. She felt seen, like he could see past everything into her spirit. He had always seen her for who she was and didn't treat her like anything less than a person—one he respected and even admired.

“You make me feel quiet,” he said and realized that didn’t sound as clear as it did in his head. He wasn’t even sure it sounded like a good thing. “Sometimes when you look at me, I forget what I'm thinking.”

“And then you drop your clipboard,” she smiled. “Or bump into a chair.”

He chuckled softly, “Yes. But the worries and stresses, the list of tasks at hand, all of the questions… they fade away.”

She lifted her head to kiss him and arched her back as he ran his hand down her side and stopped to squeeze her hip. She felt a tingle between her legs and gasped softly against his lips as heat rose to her cheeks. She had never felt so sensitive before, not even when she was alone thinking about him. He had barely touched her, but she felt her whole body respond.

* * *

  
Cullen noticed the way her breathing became labored and how her skin pricked with gooseflesh when he held her firmly. His hand moved lower, slowly following the curve of her bottom so his fingertips pressed against her inner thigh. Holding her leg against his side, he covered her mouth in another kiss and slid his arm underneath her so he could hold her.

As aroused as he was and desperate to be inside her, he wanted to prolong their intimacy for as long as he could. When would they ever have a chance to be together like this again? He wanted to hold her and kiss her and find where else she liked to be touched in a way that elicited those involuntary gasps and little spasms. She somehow knew exactly how to touch him in ways he liked that he never knew, like the way she scraped her nails through his hair as she kissed him so fervidly, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

When Serenity reached down to guide his hand around her hip and between her legs, she whispered, "This is where I touched myself when I imagined it was you."

Cullen felt his breath hitch and his erection pulse with arousal at the thought of her desiring him enough that she sought release. He wished he could have been as open and honest with her, but the thought of admitting to doing the same was too mortifying to say aloud. He knew he needn't worry about what she might think—because she trusted him and felt comfortable enough with him to express herself in ways he was hesitant to. Her admission piqued his curiosity though.

"When did you...?" 

"The first time was when we still lived in the Circle,” she confessed and bit her lip as her whole face turned a lovely shade of pink. “Maker preserve me, my face feels hot. If I say any more, I think I might burst into flame."

Cullen chuckled and kissed her cheek, noticing how warm it was. For once it was she who was blushing, though it was really her own doing, not his. As he pressed his fingers against her clitoris, where she had guided his hand, she gasped and squeezed his waist between her thighs. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, subduing a moan between heavy breaths. When she tilted to her hips to avoid so much direct stimulation, he pressed his middle finger lower between her lips until he found her entrance wet with arousal.

A sigh escaped him when she lifted her head to kiss him and reached between them to grasp and stroke his shaft. He was sensitive to her touch, surprised at how soft her hand was even with her firmly she held him.

"Oh—my hand isn't cold, is it?" she asked, loosening her hold on him. 

"No," Cullen assured her, tilting his head to kiss her neck. Her hand felt pleasantly warm, but her concern did remind him that her magic sometimes eked out without intention.

"I love you, Cullen," she breathed against his cheek as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him closer with her heels.

Turning his head to meet her lips, he lowered his hips as she guided him to press against her sex. He was careful. He didn't know whether she had any more experience than he did or whether that would even have any bearing on how it felt for her now. But he didn't want to hurt her. 

She was warm and wet, so soft and tight. He didn't lose himself in carnal desire or put too much force behind his hips. He broke their kiss, breathing heavily as he brushed his lips against her skin, and slowly delved deeper with the rhythmic rocking of their hips.

* * *

  
Serenity expected it to be painful, at least a little bit at first. She felt pressure as he penetrated her and the sensation of her walls being stretched as he gently pushed past the initial resistance of her opening. But there was no burning or discomfort, just the feeling of fullness.

Hooking her ankles behind his knees to spread her legs wider, Serenity whispered breathless moans against his ear and pressed her palm flat against his back damp with perspiration. She kept her other hand entangled in his hair until he pulled it away to intertwine his fingers with hers. She didn’t know it could feel like this. It felt so much better than she imagined, not only physically but to finally be as close as she could be with the one that held her heart in his hands for so many years. She drank in his breath between broken kisses, feverish with affection.

The deeper he filled her, the more she squeezed him, and the friction between them stimulated her bud with each long stroke. She tilted her head back and writhed against him, her legs shaking, as she subdued an airy moan. She held her breath when she reached the edge of climax and pressed her heels against his bottom to encourage him to thrust harder and faster as she reached between their bodies to massage her bud. 

When she contracted around him and her voice broke with an involuntary moan, Cullen covered her mouth with a kiss and embedded himself inside her as deeply as her body allowed him. His short thrusts became erratic as she massaged him inside her, bringing him to orgasm. He wrapped his arm under the small of her back and lifted her hips as he leaned into her, groaning quietly against her neck.

Serenity smiled, more aroused by the sound of his voice as nobody else would hear it. The tingle in her belly spread between her legs, still sensitive from her climax, when she felt him throbbing inside her. She squeezed his hand and lightly caressed his shoulder as she tilted her head to rest it against his cheek as she caught her breath.

“What have I done…?” Cullen muttered.

Serenity felt her heart sink. He was still inside her and already he was having regrets? 

She squeezed his shoulder and asked, “Do you regret laying with me?”

“No, I… that’s not… I, ah…” Cullen hesitated, realizing how it must have sounded.

"It’s okay,” she said quietly, understanding his concern as he withdrew from her.

She had to tell him. She hadn’t wanted to yet, at least to enjoy today without any thought of tomorrow, but she wanted her tomorrow to be with him. If family was important to him, she owed it to him to be forthright. Not that she thought he ever considered that kind of future with her, even now. She was still a mage. 

“Grey Wardens can’t have children," she said softly, suddenly aware of a feeling she hadn’t felt before. Shame. It felt strange to feel ashamed or embarrassed about it now when being like other women was never an option for her before. But it was no longer Chantry law precluding her from having children. It was because she was rendered infertile. Changed by the taint. Diseased. 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you what the Joining involves, but it changes us,” she said sullenly. “The change might not take hold right away, but… by now, I think, it would be impossible. Even Alistair couldn’t produce an heir to the throne.”

* * *

  
Cullen was relieved for a moment—and then he felt an undercurrent of anguish. Was fatherhood something he even wanted? It wasn’t something he had ever given much thought to for himself. He had dedicated himself to his duty, to the Maker and Chantry, and had scarcely believed he would ever be worthy of anything more after what occurred at the Circle. He had barely found himself worthy to receive her letters—or the letters from his sister, Mia.

“Please, say something,” she whispered. “Should I have told you sooner?”

“No,” he answered softly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“I never thought I would have a family of my own,” he said. 

Although there was some appeal to the thought, it wasn't the life he chose. Templars seldom married, though it wasn't unheard of. But their confinement to the Circle, he thought, would have put a strain on their families—unless they were stationed elsewhere, like the chantry in Greenfell. Those templars could go home at their end of their shifts, rather than to a barracks. 

He had had the innocence of a child when he dreamed of joining the order. He didn’t dream of toiling away on a farm, nor did he imagine being a father. He wanted to serve a just purpose. He would not let his disillusionment deter him from what he set out to do as a templar. He still believed in the order, even with its flaws.

“I never imagined having a family with you,” he admitted. She was a mage, forbidden by Chantry law from producing children. “But I liked to imagine being with you.”

“Is it enough?” she asked, disappointed when he pulled away from her. She rolled over onto her stomach when he laid down on his back beside her and held his hand so she could rest her cheek against his knuckles. “Am I enough?”

“More than that,” he answered as he pulled her closer to kiss her lips. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know you need to sleep before dawn, but I’d like to talk a little bit more first,” Serenity said, moving closer so she could lean into him. “I hope that my being here will help you sleep better. You’ve already had too many restless nights.”

“It will be nice to sleep while it’s quiet,” he said, trailing his fingers down her back along the curve of her spine. “What will you do tomorrow? After you leave here.”

“Tomorrow, I will go see Varric and… I have a lead on somebody I want to find,” she answered. “He’s here in the city. I don’t know how long I’ll stay after that. But you know I’ll always find my way back to you.”

“I… would like that, but…”

The reality of their situation weighed on him. What he thought impossible had somehow come to pass, but he couldn’t bear to consider the cost of their next meeting. 

“I know it won’t be easy,” she said. “Especially if we can’t write each other. But you’ll tell me if you feel differently, won’t you?”

“Nothing could change the way I feel,” he assured her. “But it isn’t safe for you here. I don’t know that it ever will be." 

"If it isn't safe for me, it isn't safe for any mage," Serenity said. 

"I will speak with the Knight-Commander tomorrow. I’ll make sure what happened to you doesn’t happen to anybody else," he assured her. But he wondered how many others had been taken below the Gallows to be tested and tortured. 

Cullen had read Otto Alrik’s ‘Tranquil Solution’ and knew it was rejected by both the Grand Cleric and the Knight-Commander, in spite of her liberal use of the brand. He was ashamed to think at one time he might have lent it some credence himself. For all he knew of Alrik’s views on mages, he hadn’t known about the torture. He knew there were other templars that shared Alrik’s sentiments. He would have to watch them more closely, too. 

“Do you remember telling me in Ferelden that you heard templars discussing killing mages with glee?” Serenity asked.

“I, ah… I should not have discussed their predilections so openly,” he said.

“No, I appreciate that you confided in me. But I am curious how many of the templars in Ferelden shared their propensity for violence,” she said. “I’ve seen the dungeons in the basement. I’ve heard stories from the mages, from passing moments of discomfort to tales of torture. I was mostly blind to it as an apprentice in the Circle, but I see it now.”

“More than I was comfortable with at the time,” he answered. “Their feelings were not shared by the majority though. Greagoir discouraged any behavior that went beyond what he deemed necessary.”

“But sometimes torture was necessary?” she asked.

“I… I was never assigned to such tasks,” Cullen answered. “I’m ashamed to say I volunteered for it after Uldred’s coup, but Greagoir sent me away instead. It took leaving Kinloch Hold for me to stop seeing blood mages around every corner. And now, it seems, there really are blood mages around every corner.”

“But you… when you arrived here, you didn’t…” she started apprehensively. 

“Are you trying to ask me if I tortured mages?” He had just admitted to once being in the frame of mind to commit such heinous acts so he couldn’t fault her for asking. It wasn't disappointment in her that he felt but in himself. 

"I can't imagine you taking pleasure in it, even if you thought you were doing it for the right reasons," she said. "But… you didn’t, did you?"

“I don’t condone torture," Cullen answered guardedly. "I would have stepped out of the Maker’s light and allowed Uldred to shape me if I did. I refused to let the demons break me and make me a monster. But I admit I didn’t realize for how long they still held me under their influence. I thought because I wasn’t possessed that they hadn’t gotten through to me, but… how could I walk away from that unchanged?”

“You’re still you,” she said softly. 

“I felt like I was losing myself. But… I don’t want to be that man—a man unworthy of even his sister’s love,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I felt so ashamed when I received her first letter. She thought me dead. She was rightfully angry with me because I didn’t tell her I wasn’t. But I felt like part of me died in that tower.”

“But you found yourself,” Serenity said and lifted his hand away from his face to caress his cheek. “You have seen the worst and the best of the order. You have seen all that mages are capable of. The horrors and the healing. The Maker put you here for a reason. You can weather the storm where others falter.”

Cullen sighed and ran his hand through her hair, comforted by her voice. “It is almost too heavy a weight to carry. But I will. There are many more templars here that share the cruel sentiments of those you heard about in Ferelden.”

“I do not envy your position,” Serenity said. “You have so many relying on you. Keep your ear to the wall and protect them.”

Cullen chuckled softly, “Don’t you mean ‘keep your ear to the ground’?”

“The ground? What will you hear in the ground but footsteps?”

“But that’s the idiom,” he said.

“But if you eavesdrop through a wall, you might hear people talking,” she said, stifling a laugh.

“I will keep my ear to the wall then,” he conceded and smiled.

“Before you get too comfortable,” she said, mustering up the sweetest tone she could as she leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. “I am going to need you to sneak me a snack from the scullery. And I’ll need a chantry robe to sneak out with in the morning. I’m afraid mine needs considerable mending.”

Cullen smiled and reluctantly sat up to get dressed. “All right. I’ll try to find a suitable robe in the laundry room. I think I can find you some plain clothes, at least.”


	17. Justified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity finds Anders in Darktown and learns just how much he has changed with Justice's influence.

Serenity moved her things to the vacant room at the Hanged Man. She wouldn’t have expected it to be safer for her there, but the alienage hadn’t done her any favors. She couldn’t blame the elves or resent them for turning her in. After all, she was a stranger, and the templars had been looking for a blonde elf for months. It wasn’t much to go on, but she fit the description.

She hesitated to knock on Varric’s door, only because she dreaded to acknowledge what happened the night before. She could hear her mabari on the other side, body-wagging as he waited for her to come inside. The longer she hesitated, the more obvious it was, so she knelt down at the doorway to greet Mabari-Cullen only to be toppled over by him. She might have wrestled him if they were in her own room, but she waited for him to finish covering her face in slobber before getting to her feet. 

“Now I’m all sticky,” she said, giving him a scratch behind his ears. 

Mabari-Cullen barked happily and walked back into the room to sit beside another mabari. 

“Oh? Who is this?” Serenity asked and looked to Varric for an answer. 

“That's Petunia. It would seem that there's something about me that just screams dog-sitter to my friends," Varric smiled. "How are you holding up?" 

"I'm going to be okay," she answered. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Varric. I’m glad M.C. didn’t listen to me when I told him to wait until morning. He must have found you right away.” 

“He’s a smart pooch,” he answered. “He sniffed you out. I didn’t even know about the entrance to the Gallows he found from Lowtown. It’s rumored there are a lot of them in the Undercity, but the Mage Underground hasn’t even discovered them all.” 

“You were away for some time, weren't you?” Serenity asked, decidedly changing the subject. “I heard something about your friend Hawke making a name for herself, but you didn't fare too poorly yourself."

"You heard about that, huh? We went down into the Deep Roads and took several wrong turns, but we came back with enough gold to upset the nobles in Hightown," he smirked.

"Hawke has her own estate there now, doesn’t she? But you’re still here?"

"What can I say? The Hanged Man is my favorite place in Kirkwall," Varric grinned. "Also, I prefer not to have assassins knocking at my door."

"Do assassins from Orzammar knock? How polite."

"Oh, sure, sometimes they even let me buy them dinner first," Varric shrugged. "The Hanged Man is the only tavern in Kirkwall that isn’t owned by the Merchant’s Guild."

"The Merchant’s Guild. That sounds familiar," Serenity said thoughtfully. "Do you know Jerrik Dace?"

"Do I?" Varric scoffed, "That nug-licker owes me a lot of money. I funded his expedition into the Deep Roads three years ago. Don't tell me you're friends with him."

"He wrote me a very nice letter asking me to accompany him into Amgarrak," she answered. "It was so nice, I didn't even think to ask for money.”

“You mean _you’re_ so nice you didn’t think to ask for money,” Varric corrected her. 

“My payment was in whatever I found on the darkspawn I killed. As it usually is,” she chuckled. “I’m afraid it will be some time before he pays you back. What we found down there… I hope I never see anything like it again."

"Not piles of gold then. I'm afraid to ask," Varric sighed. "If it's something that stands out to a Grey Warden, it must have been really nasty."

"It was the worst I've seen of blood magic."

Isabela snuck up behind Serenity and covered her eyes with her hands. “Guess who.” 

Serenity startled and smiled, “Isabela?”

“I saw you walk in and knew I had to come and say hi,” she said, walking around her to take a seat in Varric’s chair. 

“Everything work out on the Wounded Coast with Aveline and her beau?” Varric asked. 

“Oh, it was pitiful. Painful, even.”

“I wish I'd been there,” he smiled ruefully.

“Oh, I'll give you every last embarrassing detail. The look on Donnic's face when I suggested he bend her over a basin! Priceless!” Isabela laughed. 

“I can't believe Aveline insisted I not come along but didn't forbid you from going,” Varric scoffed. 

“I think she secretly wanted my help. She certainly needed it,” she said and helped herself to Varric’s bottle of whiskey. “Well, Warden, what trouble have you been getting yourself into?” 

Serenity cast a hesitant glance at Varric, saw the subtle shake of his head, and answered, “I'm looking for a Grey Warden by the name of Anders.” 

“You know Blondie?” Varric asked. “I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. It's not going to be easy dragging him back to Ferelden if that's what you're planning.”

“It's not,” Serenity answered, more surprised Varric knew him well enough to give him a nickname. “I just want to talk to him.”

“I knew he was a Warden,” Isabela said, “but I didn't know he was a friend of yours. Sometimes he can... get a little out of hand.”

“Anders' spicy shimmy?” Serenity asked hopefully. 

Isabela laughed, “Oh, sweet thing, I wish that were the case. You'll have to go find out for yourself.”

“He runs a clinic out in Darktown,” Varric said. “You need only follow the lit lanterns. I should have an entrance marked on the map with a black circle.” 

“I remember seeing the mark,” Serenity answered. “I haven’t explored it yet though. I’ve only explored Lowtown and Hightown.”

“Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise. But make sure you take your dog with you. It’s not a place you want to be wandering around alone.”

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s an area of Kirkwall I’ve been to where I feel any differently. Even in Hightown, somebody tried to pick my pocket,” she said. 

“That’s the best place to pick pockets. You’ll find fewer cut purses in Lowtown. They want gold, not lint.” 

Serenity crossed her arms and smirked, “Well, I disoriented him and made him walk into a fountain.”

“Well played, Frosty,” Varric grinned. “You didn’t freeze the water with him in it, did you?”

Serenity chuckled, “No! I might as well have screamed ‘I’m a mage!’ if I did that. I was very subtle.” 

“Hawke should take a page out of your book,” Varric chuckled. “I’m not sure subtlety is in her vocabulary. She tends to get into the thick of things in Kirkwall and could probably use your help.”

“Yes!” Isabela grinned, “You should join us. It would be a lot of fun to have the Hero of Ferelden with us.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but I would rather not get into the thick of things in Kirkwall. In case you forgot, I am a mage.”

“Tsk,” Isabela frowned. “I was looking forward to ribbing Anders with you.” 

“Well, perhaps that could be arranged. He is fun to tease,” Serenity smiled. That, of course, depended on how their conversation went. She couldn’t just forget what transpired in her absence. 

“He is. Just don't get him too riled up,” she warned. 

“He can have a bit of a temper,” Varric said. 

“You mean Justice has a temper,” Serenity said. 

“He doesn’t like being called a killjoy,” Isabela noted. “No amount of ale can cure that unfortunate ailment.” 

“Or ‘demon,’” Varric added.

“Oh, yeah, that one is a hair trigger.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Serenity clicked her tongue to get Mabari-Cullen’s attention and said, “Come, boy. You can court Petunia when we get back.”

Varric laughed, “I'm not sure what Hawke would say to that, but who am I to interfere with mother nature?”

Isabela winked, “There is an alley nearby that is rather private. I can show them where it is.” 

Serenity watched Petunia nuzzle Mabari-Cullen affectionately and said, “Hawke should be thanking him. Mabari pups are worth a lot of money. And M.C. is a Hero of Ferelden too. He felled a lot of darkspawn, saved a lot of lives... He could take down an ogre all by himself.”

Mabari-Cullen barked happily, tail wagging. He clearly appreciated her talking him up in front of his potential mate. 

“I'll be back later,” Serenity said. “Varric, I owe you one. Really, thank you.”

“Anything for a friend,” he said. “Tell Blondie we said hi when you see him.”

* * *

  
As Serenity walked through the market in Lowtown, she was grateful to have Mabari-Cullen at her side. He stayed especially close, nosing her hand occasionally. At first she thought he saw something he wanted at one of the stalls they passed, either treats or bones—but then she realized he could sense her distress before she even realized what she was feeling. She hadn’t noticed how many templars walked around Lowtown before. It helped to become aware of her feelings though so she could consciously prevent them from surfacing.

When they descended into the undercity, a district of its own for the sick and impoverished, the first thing Serenity noticed was the foul odor in the air. 

“Maker’s breath,” she muttered. “Is this a sewer?”

Mabari-Cullen whined.

“Right, your nose is even more sensitive than mine,” she said dolefully and walked further into Darktown. She was almost certain they had just passed a dead body. It certainly smelled like it. 

She realized as they passed a covered hole in the ground that the undercity was, in fact, a part of the sewer system. She pinched her nose shut as she followed a line of lit lanterns down a set of stairs to a hovel around the corner. 

She recognized Anders as soon as she saw him, even with his back turned towards her. She wasn’t sure what she would feel or think when she finally found him. She thought maybe she would be angry or disappointed, but she was relieved. He was alive. He was helping people. He was still himself.

“You should be all better now. Try to be more careful," Anders said as helped the wounded refugee sit upright on the cot. 

"Anders," Serenity said softly, noticing a stiffness in his shoulders as he turned to face her. Did he think she was there to hunt him down and bring him to justice? 

“I’m… sorry I wasn’t there,” she said and took a tentative step forward. 

The look of apprehension melted away as his shoulders relaxed. "Serenity..."

She closed the distance between them and hugged him. It was her fault. He was her responsibility. He abandoned the order because she wasn't there to protect him. She wasn't there to stop him. But seeing him now, helping people and healing them, how could she punish him? Wasn't this atonement? Didn't he deserve freedom after everything he'd lost? 

She embraced him tighter, clutching at his robe as she buried her face against his chest and allowed her tears to fall, relieving the pressure behind her eyes. She wasn’t sure which emotion it was that overwhelmed her. She was happy to have found him but sad for having lost him. She knew she couldn't keep him.

Did he resent her? Did he blame her? 

She knew what he endured at the hands of templars. She had seen the dark dungeon, the shackles, the dried blood. She heard the self-righteous enjoyment they took in the pain they inflicted on mages. Knowing that he had fled them only for the Grey Wardens to set them upon him again made her feel at fault for the position he found himself in now. 

“Are you okay?” Anders asked, concerned.

“I’m so sorry,” Serenity said, trembling in his embrace as she tried to compose herself. “I should have been there. I shouldn’t have left for as long as I did. If I had taken you with me—”

“Come with me,” he said and waited for her to relinquish her very tight grasp on him before leading her into the next room. “You’re stronger than I remember. You might have bruised my ribs,” he teased. “Have you been wrestling bears?”

Serenity smiled, wiping away the streaks of tears on her cheeks, and said, “When I returned, you were gone... I was told they took away Ser Pounce-a-lot and sent a templar to watch over you. I would never have allowed that.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” Anders said. "The Grey Wardens aren’t all they’re chocked up to be, but you’re the best of them, Serenity.”

She took a deep breath and continued, “I was also told you killed that templar and five other Wardens in a fit of rage. I refused to believe it. I know you're no murderer, Anders, and there's no justice in murder. So, what happened?”

Anders shut his eyes. It looked like he was struggling against something just under the surface. 

“I… lost control," he said reluctantly. "My thoughts are not my own as they once were. All I cared about was myself before, but now my cowardice and selfishness revile me."

"What do you mean your thoughts are not your own?" she asked worriedly. "Is it true? Did you allow Justice to possess you?"

“I felt like a child again, under constant watch. Justice could feel it even before he saw it through my eyes. It was time for him to release Kristoff to his wife. Justice had nowhere to go," he answered. "He was my friend. He wanted to help me."

"But what happened to the Wardens? What happened with Ser Rolan?" Serenity asked. If he lost control, did he even remember? 

"They didn’t see _me_ anymore. They caught a glimpse of him through me when we were fighting a band if darkspawn, and that was all they needed. It didn’t matter that I was me again," he said, furrowing his brow. "As it happened, I… I can remember the smell of lyrium, the taste of blood… and I remember thinking… ‘He hates me, he fears me… he hunts me. He is dead.’”

“Then, it's true...?" Serenity lamented. "Justice took control over you and killed the Wardens? For looking at you funny?”

“They were going to turn me into the templars,” he said. “I don't remember killing the others. I didn't even know they were there.”

  
_'I tried to stop her, but I can’t. She said she’d help Father. I didn’t think she’d hurt everyone, honestly I didn’t.'_

  
She knew Justice had access to every memory Anders held, every torture, every lonely night locked away. But he wasn't Justice anymore, was he? What was a spirit of Justice turned on its head? 

“It was what they deserved,” Anders said quietly. “The Wardens were working with the templars. They were no better than they were.”

“You share his perception?” Serenity asked and clasped her hands to still the shaking. “What the Constable-Warden did to you was wrong, but how many of those Wardens present had nothing to do with it?”

“I was betrayed. I did everything they asked, but the Grey Wardens had no loyalty to me anymore," Anders answered. "It didn’t matter that I survived the Joining. All that matters to them are their politics. They wanted to appease the Chantry.”

“They were scared, Anders,” she said. “You justified their fear when you killed them all. I would have come for you if they had taken you away. I could have made things right.”

“They never would have let me go, Serenity. Justice wouldn’t have let them take me back. I was supposed to be safe. I was supposed to be free!” he argued. “But it isn’t just about me anymore. What about the other mages? What about their freedom?”

It was his fear that attracted Justice. It was his fear that changed him. 

"Why didn’t you release Justice?" Serenity asked desperately. "He should have returned to the Fade!”

“Because he was my friend and he was afraid of dying. I was tired of being alone. I’ve always been alone,” Anders answered. 

“You weren’t alone anymore. You had me,” Serenity said. 

“You weren’t there,” Anders said. His words hurt her, even though he said them without malice. “He offered me his power to be able to help everyone else that couldn’t escape. Together, we could help people better than I ever could on my own."

“We don’t know that he would have died,” Serenity insisted. “He might have returned to the Fade. He probably still could.”

“I don’t have enough faith to take that chance,” Anders said. “At first, he spoke of wanting to see more of our world, to appreciate the color. But then… he wanted to help. He had no desire to possess me, only to lend me his strength and help guide me in making the world a better place. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But he can’t just watch. He never could. He seeks to right wrongs,” Serenity sighed. “You, of all people, have been the subject of some of the greatest cruelties. He was drawn to you for your pain, not your friendship. You can see that now, can’t you? That he found a purpose in you?”

“No, it’s… it’s not that simple. Justice isn’t like how he was in the Fade," Anders said. "We taught him how complex our world is. He was more human."

“Spirits that experience conflicting emotions and desires might be called demons,” Serenity said.

“Don’t—don’t use that word,” Anders warned her. “He doesn’t like it. The man you're looking at right now just wants to help people. That's why I opened this clinic.”

  
_'He is not always the demon you saw. Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through.'_

  


He reminded her of _him._ Anders wasn't a little boy, but she wanted to protect him. She didn't want to fail him too. How long would it be before he lost control again? How long before Justice broke through? Did the spirit whose voice Anders tried to subdue still sound the same? Could he still call him his friend?

“I know, Anders," Serenity said gently. "But you realize how dangerous he is, don't you? Is he still reasonable? Would he leave you if you asked him to?” 

“It’s… it’s not like that. He’s gone now. He’s a part of me. It’s not like we can… have a conversation. I feel his thoughts as my own.”

It was just like before. Justice wasn't really gone. He was constant, like breathing, but he could overcome him like a fit of coughs. All he had to do was try. 

  
_'She’s closer now… I can hear her whispering to me.'_

  


“You are sharing your body and your consciousness. He influences you just as you influence him,” Serenity said. “Kristoff was dead, but he had access to Kristoff's memories and his feelings, so it makes sense to feel that he is becoming a part of you when he absorbs everything you've known and felt.”

“I… I don't know what I am anymore.” 

“I know what you are,” she said softly.

“An abomination…?” he asked and winced. Even uttering the word incited a feeling of rage and indignation within.

“Yes,” she answered. “But you're also a good man, Anders, and you’re my friend. I might have called Justice my friend too, but he… has a skewered perception of the world. Spirits have a singular purpose that doesn't allow for shades of grey.”

“You've seen the plight of the mages in Kirkwall, haven’t you? It's even worse here than in Ferelden. How can I sit back while others less fortunate than I continue to suffer at the hands of their jailers?” Anders asked bitterly. “I was selfish before, content to have my own freedom while everyone else remained locked away. I even convinced myself that a lot of them didn’t care enough to try to escape, that they had grown complacent or, like you, they were obedient and didn’t see the shadows behind the Chantry’s light.” 

“Maker preserve me,” Serenity muttered. “Do you remember how Justice reacted to Kristoff’s memories? Even though we killed the darkspawn responsible for Kristoff's death, he wanted to eradicate them all, which served the Grey Wardens' purpose. But what you’re suggesting…”

“Change,” Anders said simply. 

“The Circle could use reform, I’ll admit,” Serenity said. “But he sees all templars as the same kind of evil without exceptions, doesn't he?”

Anders grunted and hunched forward, holding his head in his hands. He groaned and stumbled back, holding his hand up at Serenity as she approached him. “Don’t come near me!” 

“Anders—” Serenity stepped back, her heart racing with a rise of panic to match the desperation in his voice. He sounded scared. He didn't want to hurt her. 

  
_'Go away. She won’t like you being here. She’ll just try to hurt you.'_

  


Connor had tried to warn her too. But she couldn't walk away from him. 

Anders’ skin cracked and glowed, his eyes bright and blind like white fire. “The templars, the Chantry, and everyone in our way will be crushed. They seek to keep the mages under their boots, powerless and broken!” 

“Justice,” Serenity greeted him evenly. It was eerie to hear his voice and see any trace of Anders’ spirit gone—replaced by the eyes of a demon. Was he still a benevolent spirit? Or had he been corrupted? It was hard to say, considering that Justice was never one to show mercy. He had always been hard and resolute. But his voice sounded the same as it had before.

“I remember you, Grey Warden,” Justice said, taking a step toward her. “We cannot tolerate the mistreatment of mages any longer. We will not be taken captive. We will make them pay for every mage they lock up, every mage severed from the Fade. The subjugation of innocents must come to an end!”

“Don't come any closer, Justice,” Serenity said, taking a step back. “You think the Wardens no better than the templars because they feared you. You judge my order, even though you lived as one of us in Kristoff's corpse. I allowed you to remain. It was a mistake. You don’t belong in this realm.”

“This realm lacks justice! We do not belong to the Grey Wardens or anyone else that would encourage the unjust imprisonment and murder of innocents!”

His power seemed to surge before Anders suddenly fell to his knees in agony. The glowing faded away, and Anders looked up from his shaky hands with his own eyes. “I… I have to learn to master this… I have to keep control over it.”

Serenity knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She could see pain in his eyes, only a hint of what this change had caused him. “There must be something that can be done. You can't continue struggling with him like this. It's too dangerous.”

“There is nothing...” he said, breathing heavily. “I can only try to master this...”

He had always communicated across the veil with ease, making him an adept spirit healer. He was resilient enough to survive everything thrown at him thus far. She had to have faith in him. It would only be a matter of time before the spirit exerted its will over his own and overpowered him, but maybe he could hold on long enough for her to find a way to help him. 

“This parasite will consume you, Anders, if you don't keep a clear heart and an open mind. He has targeted the Chantry, the templars, and anyone who thinks mages need to stay in the Circle. That’s most of Thedas,” she said. “A lot of those that actually try to help mages escape are templars, but they've already been judged, haven’t they?”

“You… you should go. It isn’t safe for you here,” he said, using a nearby table to slowly rise to his feet. He sat down in a chair against the wall and rested his arms on his knees. “Please, Serenity. Get as far away from me as you can.”

It was torture to see Connor in Anders and still be unable to do anything to help him.

  
_’You should go. She’ll come back soon.’_

  


She didn't give Connor room to breathe. She didn't leave him to struggle against the spirit that possessed him. Would it have changed anything if she had? Or would it have been worse? 

Serenity didn’t want to cause Anders any undue stress or bait Justice to surface, but she followed him and knelt down to rest her hand on his knee. “I didn't mean to make it harder for you, Anders. I don’t believe Justice would attack me, not when he’s seen how I intervened in your capture. If there is any way, even if it takes years to discover how, I will help you find your freedom.”

“You can’t free me from myself,” Anders murmured. “You should just forget about me. Forget you ever knew me. I’m… I’m not the same person I was before. I never can be.”

  
_’But somebody has to stop her from hurting anyone else. You can do it.’_

  


Connor had given her permission to bring it all to the end. If Anders gave her the same, could she do it again?

“I can’t,” she said and stood up. She held his face in her hands as she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I'll come back for you. I need some time to try to find a solution, but I’m not giving up on you. Don't do anything crazy, unless it involves a spicy shimmy.”

“I… I should have listened,” he said as she pulled away. “But I thought I could do more. Being a Grey Warden, it just wasn’t enough, knowing I had escaped the Circle while Karl was still locked away in here. How could I just forget about him after all my attempts to be free just to find him?”

“He’s here?” she asked. 

“He was,” Anders answered sullenly. “He was my closest friend in Ferelden. No, he was… much more than that. He was the only thing to ever bring me joy in that place. The only person to bring me peace. When I was with him, I stopped dwelling on what I’d lost and felt grateful for what I had. I had him.”

“Why did they take him away?” 

“They said they needed more experienced mages at the Gallows. Karl was the best we had. He wasn’t just a better mage but a better person than I could ever be. I thought they took him away because of me, but that would be a disservice to who he was,” Anders admitted. 

“You said the letters stopped coming,” she remembered. “That was why you tried to escape.” 

“I would have turned myself into the Gallows if they would have just let me be with him. But they took me back. They took me all the way back to Kinloch Hold and threw me in that cell to lose my mind, to try to make me forget him. But you don’t forget a love like that,” Anders said, his voice trembling as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. 

“Did… did you find him?” she asked hesitantly. 

“I came here to free him, but the templars knew what we wrote each other. They knew I intended to see him, even though I hadn’t laid out my plan in writing. They made him Tranquil just for the letter I wrote him, just because I asked him to meet me.”

“I’m… so sorry, Anders,” Serenity said softly, but she knew it wasn’t enough. She could only imagine how it felt to lose somebody to the brand. Just the thought of losing Jowan was enough to forfeit her entire future with the Circle. But someone she loved… like Cullen? She didn’t want to imagine how it felt.

“There was a moment,” he said, his voice breaking. “Justice brought him back, for just a moment long enough for him to beg me to kill him. Death is a mercy to the Tranquil. It’s just as bad as we feared.”

Serenity covered her mouth with her hand to hide the trembling of her lips and reached out to comfort him. For all the choices she made and all that haunted her, she wasn’t sure how she could survive that were she in his shoes. Or how, if she hadn’t accepted Pride’s help, Cullen could have survived having to kill her. As strong as he was, she knew he had limits.

Anders was dangerous. His grief was fuel for vengeance. She knew that, but she still had so much love for him. Even under Justice’s influence, she could see the gentleness and goodness in him. She had to save him. There had to be a way.

“I’m going to find the man responsible,” Anders said, looking up at her. “The templars are working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall Tranquil within the next three years.”

“That… that’s preposterous,” she said. “That could never happen.”

“You haven’t been here as long as I have,” he said. “You haven’t seen how many new Tranquil there are on the streets every week. Mages I know passed their Harrowing have been branded.”

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted. “But it would take more than the Knight-Commander accepting such a radical idea, wouldn’t it?”

“It would also involve the Grand Cleric,” Anders answered. “The Mage Underground have a way into the Gallows. I intend to find proof of Alrik’s ‘Tranquil Solution.’ Come with me.”

“Otto Alrik?”

He recognized the fleeting look of fear on her face and the way her hands tightened around the hem of her robe. “You know him? You’ve met him?”

“I can’t accompany you,” she said. “Not this time.”

“What happened?” he asked, standing up. “What did he do to you?”

Serenity hadn’t realized how easily he would see right through her, but she put her hands on his arms to try to calm him, in turning calming herself. “Anders, I only want to speak with you, not him.”

“I am me,” he answered sternly.

“I’m here,” she reminded him, squeezing his arms gently. She wanted to tell him everything, knowing he, of all people, would understand. But she couldn’t give more fuel to the white fire. She had to internalize her pain and cope with it alone behind the smile she wore to reassure him. “I’m okay.”

He sat back down in the chair and tried not to look at her. “He took Karl from me. I’m glad he didn’t take you too.”

“You know I’m notoriously hard to kill,” she smiled.

“He tried to kill you?” he asked, clenching his fists to try to subdue the rage of justice under his skin. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” she answered quickly, regretting what she said. She inwardly chastised herself for not choosing her words more carefully. “I only meant if he tried, he would have failed. You won’t be alone, will you?”

“I feel Justice’s presence searing inside me, demanding I take action,” he said and groaned as he leaned back in the chair. “Tomorrow night. We’re going tomorrow night. Hawke will be with me. Probably Isabela. Maybe Merrill.”

“You should have some chamomile tea,” she advised, hoping her tone would help soothe his anger.

Anders chuckled ruefully, “I don’t think tea can help me.”

“Add some royal elfroot and you might be surprised,” she said. “Anders, I know you felt alone. I didn’t mean to abandon you. I hope you know I’m still your friend. Even if I’m not in the same room with you.”

“I know,” he said. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me, Commander. I just need to control myself. I can still do some good in this world as I am.”

“I conscripted you,” she reminded him. “You are not a waste of my time.”

Serenity felt responsible for him, not only for his wellbeing but for the choices he made and the deaths on his hands. If she couldn’t save him, she had to stop him. But she couldn’t bring herself to consider what that might mean. Not yet.

“You’re stubborn,” Anders said and smiled. “You know where to find me if you change your mind. We could use your help.”

Serenity couldn't be party to Alrik’s execution. She wanted him dead, truly, but she didn’t want to ever have to face him again. She didn’t want to give in to the temptations of rage and vengeance. If Anders sought evidence of his proposal, he would have to go through Alrik to get it. She had defended Anders as a spirit healer and denied that he was capable of murder, but even knowing what he was going to do, it was hard to protest. She was reminded of the slaver in Denerim she had sent Zevran after. Alrik’s blood would still be on her hands—but worse yet, it would be on Anders’.

“Don’t do this, Anders. It will change you,” she said. She believed Alrik’s death was justified, not just for the experiments he subjected countless mages to but for what he did to Karl. But she didn’t know what it would do to Anders’ spirit. It would be a relief for Alrik to face Justice, but not at the risk of losing Anders. “The Knight-Commander is being made aware of his actions. He won’t have that power—”

“Don’t try to stop me,” Anders interrupted her gently. “Nothing you say can change my mind. The Knight-Commander is already aware of his actions, I’m sure. She likely has a hand in choosing the mages he brands. If you don’t want to join me, I won’t ask again. But don’t try to stop me.”

Serenity could almost detect a hint of warning in his tone. She wasn’t sure she could stop him if she tried. But she could not betray him—not to protect a monster. She would certainly lose him if she did. She would rather save whatever bits of humanity he had left in him after the deed was done.

* * *

  
She returned to the Hanged Man and sat on a stool at the bar while Mabari-Cullen ran upstairs to reunite with Petunia.

“So then I looked him dead in the eye and said, ‘What makes you think you can touch my rudder when you can't even get your mast up halfway—‘” Isabela said and noticed Serenity looking far too glum. “Excuse me, boys.”

Serenity smiled at the audible disappointment of Isabela’s audience and said, “You’re a storyteller too, huh?”

“I lack the nuances of plot in my storytelling,” Isabela said, taking a seat beside her. “Now, why the long face when you sat down?”

“I didn't know how much he was suffering.”

Isabela gestured to Korff for a drink. Judging by her countenance, Serenity needed one… or two. “I know just what you need to lift your spirits.”

“Spirits?” Serenity asked knowingly.

“Exactly,” she smiled. “Anything that won’t kill us will do. But in the morning we’ll wish we were dead.”

“I... I don't know how to help him,” Serenity lamented. “I have to find a way to help him before it's too late. Justice is something else now, and it'll swallow him whole given the chance. Anders has remarkable willpower to resist the way he does. I don’t know if that will still be the case after tomorrow.”

“So, he told you,” Isabela said, pouring her a glass from the bottle Korff left on the counter for her. “If he weren't caught up with his revolution, I'm sure he'd be remarkable at a lot of things.”

“He only wanted to be free, but now he’s enslaved by Justice's agenda, in a constant struggle for control,” Serenity said and took a sip of the whiskey. “Maker’s breath, that’s strong.”

“The stronger the better, I say.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you with this,” Serenity said, turning the glass slowly in her hand.

“Trust me. With the group I'm hanging around with regularly? I'm quite used to taking on other people's problems,” she said and smiled. “Just be careful when dealing with him. You might hold back so you don't hurt Anders, but Justice won’t hold back against you.”

“I should have tried to send him back to the Fade when we first met him. I was as naive as Anders. He had no desire to come here before. But now he has no desire to leave. It's our fault. We corrupted him without meaning to. Our realm is not meant for spirits like him.”

“If you could separate Anders from that psycho, it would make my journeys much more pleasant.”

“I don't know how. Normally to send a spirit back to the Fade, you would have to kill its vessel. In theory you could sever the connection by killing the spirit in the Fade, but I haven’t seen it done, and with Anders' shared consciousness with Justice, I don't know that it would be possible. He was physically brought into our realm,” Serenity said, turning the glass thoughtfully. “Spirits can willingly leave and enter different hosts. That’s how Justice joined with Anders. But once the demon takes hold of you, it's... as far as I know, impossible to free yourself. I've never heard of anyone un-abominating themselves.”

“So, what you’re saying is… I'm stuck with a walking bomb that can go off at any moment. That's good to know.”

“I was thinking I should visit Tevinter,” Serenity said. “They have powerful mages there that know more about magic than any books in Ferelden will tell me. I could hold all I know of Tevinter in a thimble, however.”

“Tevinter? Oh, sweet thing, the Vints are another kind of fanatic when it comes to magic that you do not want to mess with,” she warned her.

“I don't know much about the current climate, aside from the slave traders I met in Denerim,” Serenity said. “The nation is ruled by mages though. One of them has to know something. I don't have the kind of coin just speaking to one would probably cost me, but maybe they have tomes in their libraries that could help.”

“I think you might want to speak with Fenris,” Isabela said. “He’s not a magister, but he knows one quite intimately.”

“A magister’s apprentice?” Serenity asked.

“A magister’s pet slave,” she answered. “He doesn’t like mages, so I had better introduce you. Wouldn’t want him getting the wrong idea about why you’re strolling into his abode.”

“I appreciate that. I like not dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to that inspired some of this chapter is ' Angels or Devils by Dishwalla '


	18. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity learns from Cullen that Meredith would not have seen Alrik properly punished. She goes into the Deep Roads to collect ghoul's blood for Avernus and to procure a Grey Warden uniform from those stationed in the Free Marches. She won't risk having her identity called into question again.

Serenity climbed the stairs to the chantry in Hightown, almost certain if she met a surly templar at the entrance, she wouldn’t be quite so bold as she was when she met Beau. It upset her to realize that and tried not to let her fear rule the way she interacted with the world. She didn’t want walking through the Circle to feel the same as entering the Deep Roads, where anxiety buzzed under her skin and made her hands clammy. She didn’t want to fear the templars, but she couldn’t help wondering if Anders was right about the Knight-Commander; she made Otto Alrik her lieutenant, after all. But Serenity trusted Cullen. She believed him when he said he didn’t know what Alrik was doing.

  


Cullen stood at the statue of Andraste and waited for her to stand beside him before he greeted her quietly, “I, ah… I have news, but I’ve been wondering how you’re doing. Are you all right?” 

She thought about it for a moment before answering, “I’m okay. What did the Knight-Commander have to say?” 

“Enacting the rite of Tranquility is supposed to be approved by the Knight-Commander. The lieutenant was acting without her permission.”

It wasn’t that simple though. Meredith had questioned the validity of Cullen’s claims in his report. He had mentioned the Grey Warden, not by name or rank, and the state she was found in. He had brought Ser Adrian to her office to testify to his involvement. But he had released the Grey Warden before informing the Knight-Commander of the assault. That, she considered, a disregard for her authority just as well. 

“Does that mean she would have him removed from the order?” she asked. 

“The lieutenant was found dead, murdered beneath the Gallows,” Cullen answered carefully. “Three days ago.” 

“But what did Meredith intend?” Serenity asked curiously. “Did she tell you?” 

He was conflicted about his feelings regarding Alrik’s death. It was worrisome that the Mage Underground had resorted to murder and had succeeded in killing an officer. But he also felt relieved, knowing Alrik could no longer carry out his schemes. He had hoped Alrik would face retribution for his actions, but he knew Meredith didn’t intend to a dole out a punishment that fit his crimes. He didn’t want to tell Serenity that, certain she would feel betrayed all over again. But he couldn’t keep it from her either. 

“She didn't plan to transfer Alrik or discharge him, only to reprimand him and keep him under close watch,” he answered quietly and wondered what he would have done had he caught Alrik in the act. He might have executed him himself, but he had the feeling he would have arrested him... and come to regret it later when he received only a slap on the wrist. “But he’s gone now.” 

Meredith had been upset about Alrik disregarding her authority on the matter, but she also claimed his zealous dedication to his duty to the Maker was why she had promoted him. Ultimately, she decided, his actions did more good than harm--his punishment would be for the disrespect he showed her. 

“I didn’t cause trouble for you, did I?” 

“No,” Cullen answered quickly. He didn’t want her to blame herself for any part of it. Everything about what happened was wrong. Looking at her, he was surprised at how calm she was and curious about what she was thinking. “The Knight-Commander had questions, but… I was able to make her see reason.” 

“You’ve always impressed upon me how sensible you are,” Serenity said. 

“I’m not sure how,” Cullen murmured, “but I'm relieved you can still think of me that way, even after I lost all sense of myself.”

He noticed how her eyes had fallen on his gauntlet and wondered if she was resisting the temptation to hold his hand. He knew she wouldn't take that risk in front of the initiates, but he found it endearing how her gaze lingered with a subtle smile. 

“Do you remember that time Bran talked about chafing?” Serenity asked. “And his solution involving several mismatched socks?” 

“Maker's breath, you really do hear everything,” Cullen muttered, looking over his shoulder. “Nobody else was supposed to hear that.”

“I never said a word about it,” she assured him. “Your idea was so much simpler… and more hygienic.” 

“Yes, but it would have involved swallowing his pride. He kept using the socks until one of the Senior Enchanters grew concerned.” 

“There is a book written by the First Enchanter of Ansburg with a fascinating hypothesis titled ‘The Interplay of Spirits in the Common Laundry Room’... that I may have bookmarked for one of my teachers to find,” Serenity confessed, subduing a smile.

“You...?” Cullen chuckled, “You meddled!”

“It was intended as a mild prank on the enchanters,” Serenity clarified. “I was hoping I might hear some mention of correspondence with First Enchanter Luidweg, but I never did hear more. I hope Bran didn't get in any trouble on my account.”

“No, he didn't,” Cullen said, unable to quell his quiet laughter. “But he threw all the socks out one of the windows in the templars' quarters, hoping the wind would carry them into the water. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t tell me about this sooner.”

“I would have if I’d known it went anywhere,” she said. “You don’t know how hard it was to hold onto that for so long.”

He knew she was playful, but he didn't realize how patient and subtle she could be in sowing mischief. How many other secrets did she want to confess to him when they were in the Circle together?

“There is something I’ve wanted to speak with you about,” Cullen said hesitantly. “I would like to tell you about my family in Honnleath. Only, I suppose, they’re not in Honnleath anymore. There is nowhere the darkspawn haven’t touched.”

“I’ve always wanted to ask about your family,” she said. “Wait—Honnleath? Did you play with the golem in the center of the village?” 

“You’ve been there?” he asked, surprised, and remembered fondly, “I used to practice my sword techniques on it. My youngest sister, Rosalie, was terrified of the thing. She was certain it would spring to life at any moment and ‘squish’ me. She even used to think it was outside her window sometimes. It never did move though.” 

“If you ever meet Shale, I’ll be sure not to let it ‘squish’ you,” Serenity smiled.

“Shale?” Cullen asked. “You mean… how in the name of Andraste…?”

“I found the control rod,” Serenity answered. “Not that it worked the way it was supposed to. The golem is no longer in Honnleath but the Deep Roads.” 

“If Rosalie ever goes back to Honnleath, I’m sure she would wonder where it went,” he said. “She’s no longer a child anymore though, so at least she wouldn’t think it’s stalking her outside her window.”

“Rosalie was the one you said walked in her sleep?” 

“Yes,” he answered softly. “She gave us all a scare more than a few times. If she stayed within the house, it was harmless. But she sometimes opened doors. I found her out by the lake once. To think she could have drowned…” 

“But she didn’t, did she?” 

“No,” he answered. “I still wonder sometimes if something was leading her away from the house in her dream. What possessed her to leave?” 

“She might have been chasing rabbits for all you know,” Serenity assured him. “Did she ever talk about her dreams?” 

“She didn’t remember them most of the time,” he said. “She did love animals though. If dreams are, as you said, reflections of what you want to see, then you may very well be right. After I left for training, I sometimes wondered if she would come into magic. She never did though. I’m… relieved at that. I would have felt rather awful for some of the games we’d played if she had.” 

“Why? What games did you play?” Serenity asked.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck nervously and answered, “My older sister, Mia, came up with different ways for my siblings to help me prepare for training. Little Rosalie was always to play the apostate in our games. She would hide, I would seek.” 

Serenity laughed, finding the thought of their childish games cute, “Even if she was a mage, I am sure she looks back on your games fondly. She must miss you.” 

Cullen smiled, relieved she didn’t find their antics in poor taste. He was certain if Rosalie had come into magic, he would have regretted playing those games with her. As it was, however, they were memories of a happier time, a time of innocence. 

“And I them,” he said. “My older sister, Mia, would play chess with me, stating it took more than swinging a sword to be a templar. Sometimes I think she knew more than she let on.” 

“I like your sister already. I’ve always wanted to challenge you,” Serenity admitted. “I knew it never would have been allowed, so I never asked.” 

Cullen smiled with a hint of sadness. It seemed too much to hope for, even now. “I used to watch you play. I wanted to teach you more strategies,” he said. “Jowan didn’t pick up on it, but you were rather predictable.” 

Serenity gasped, “You already know the moves I’m going to make? I’ll have to brush up on the game and surprise you. It’s a shame Sten isn’t here. He was very good. I could have him teach me some tricks—and not just by beating me with them… over and over again.” 

Cullen chuckled, imagining her sitting across the table from a Qunari and losing several games in a row, too stubborn to concede victory. “I’m sure you learned something from all your losses.” 

“Not to put money on a game against a Qunari,” she said. “I should have tried cheating. But nobody in their right mind tries to cheat a Qunari.” 

“I’d know if you tried to cheat,” Cullen chuckled. “I’d let you do it too, and I'd still win.” 

Serenity stifled a laugh, surprised at how confident he was about his skill when it came to the chess. She wanted more than ever to sit down and play with him. “I’ve never seen this competitive streak of yours,” she said. “Tell me about your brother. What was his role in helping you train?” 

“Branson,” Cullen answered. “He’s two years younger than me. He used to challenge me to foot races and practice sword fighting with me.” 

“But you whacked the golem because you couldn’t use your strength against your little brother?” she guessed. 

“Yes,” Cullen answered. “He… wrote me recently, suggesting he join the order here. I discouraged it. I hope that he’ll take up a trade or… perhaps join the city guard.” 

“I’m sure he’ll find his way,” Serenity said and hesitated. “What about your parents?” 

“They didn’t survive the blight. But my siblings are all alive. I’m grateful for that,” he answered softly. 

A chantry sister approached the altar and looked them over. “Knight-Captain?” she asked. 

Cullen straightened up and turned to face her. “Y-yes?” 

“I was just curious,” she said and smiled. “You usually come alone. Who is your friend?” 

Serenity knew better than to give the initiates any ammunition for the rumor mill and answered, “I’m the sister of an apprentice at the Circle. I was just asking him how he’s doing.” 

“Oh, I see,” the sister said. “Excuse me.” 

“I, ah… I should go,” Cullen said regretfully. “Did you find your friend?” 

“I did,” Serenity answered. “I’ll have to leave soon. He’s sick, and I want to try to find a way to help him.” 

“Good—” Cullen started and quickly corrected himself, “No—I mean, it’s good that you’re leaving soon. I am sorry to hear about your friend.” 

“Why is it good I’m leaving soon? I’m blending in,” she said, gesturing to her plain clothes. 

“The Arishok has shut out all communication with outsiders, leading us to believe the Qunari are planning to make their move. The Knight-Commander has us ready to react in case of an invasion.” 

“Perhaps I should stay a while longer then,” Serenity said. “I’ll need a change of clothes though.” 

“As much as I want you by my side,” Cullen said quietly, “I don’t want your life to be in such grave danger.” 

“If I ever have a chance to fight by your side, I'll take it,” Serenity said. “I’ve got another lead I need to chase before I go, anyway. I’ll see what happens.” 

Cullen smiled, unable to protest her insistence. He wanted to protect her, but he understood that she wanted the same for him. “Be careful, Serenity.”  


* * *

  
Serenity returned to the Hanged Man, determined to find the Grey Wardens in the Free Marches. Varric gave her hope, insisting the Grey Wardens could be found just about everywhere in the Free Marches. Having a connection to the all-knowing Merchant’s Guild had its perks.

A senior-warden from Orlais had procured plenty of supplies, rations, and equipment to last them weeks underground. With Varric’s help, she was able to find the dwarf that led the Wardens to an entrance into the Deep Roads. She paid a Tranquil to mend her robes for her before following the mark on the map outside the eastern edges of Kirkwall. 

It was after four days underground and very few encounters with the darkspawn, that she came across the Wardens’ camp. 

“Who goes there?” a mustachioed man asked, standing from his seat by the fire. He undoubtedly suspected her of being a scavenger. 

“Hello,” Serenity answered, stepping into the light of their campfire with Mabari-Cullen at her side. “I’m the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Serenity Surana. Who’s in charge here?” 

“The Hero of Ferelden?” he asked, surprised. She wasn’t wearing the Wardens’ garb, but it was common knowledge that she traveled with a mabari. “I am Senior Warden Jean-Marc Stroud.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she answered. “You come from Orlais?” 

“I was a chevalier before I joined the order," he answered, "but I work with the Wardens in the Free Marches. What brings you here?” 

“I’ve been in contact with Weisshaupt, but otherwise I haven’t spoken to any Wardens outside of Ferelden,” she said. “I have been meaning to learn more from those outside my own. I’ve been busy replenishing our numbers and recovering what was destroyed during the blight, but I am also on a mission. What is your purpose here, in Kirkwall?” 

“Our investigation is twofold,” Stroud answered. “An expedition into the Primeval Thaig a few years ago revealed a new kind of lyrium.” 

“Red lyrium?” Serenity asked. “I’ve heard about it. What have you learned?” 

“It seems to have spread,” Stroud answered. “It reminds me of the taint. But the taint only affects living creatures." 

“Lyrium does almost have a plant-like quality to it in the Fade,” Serenity said. “Justice said it sings.” 

“Justice?” 

“A spirit from the Fade,” she answered. “I never would have thought of lyrium as being alive, but I would believe it. You should go to Orzammar for more answers about the nature of red lyrium.” 

“The dwarves had no knowledge of red lyrium,” Stroud said. “But the other reason we’re here is to investigate the increase in ghouls around Kirkwall. Members of the Carta have been seen in the Deep Roads and around Kirkwall, infected with the taint.” 

“The Carta? Aren’t they a crime syndicate?” Serenity asked. “They aren’t surface dwellers, are they?” 

“That’s how it used to be, but it seems they’ve gotten bolder,” Stroud answered. “That doesn’t explain why they’re infected with the blight disease.” 

“It’s worrisome,” Serenity muttered, reminded of the Architect and his methods of experimentation. “The Architect was abducting people and turning them into ghouls for his experiments. He was trying to free the darkspawn of their connection to the Archdemon.” 

“I heard that you defeated him,” Stroud said. “Do you think there is any way he could have survived?” 

“I doubt it,” Serenity said. “I don’t know the exact nature of the Architect. I believe he was one of the very first darkspawn, one of the ancient magisters that entered the Black City in the Chant of Light. Whether his essence could have survived like that of the Archdemon, I couldn’t say, but I made the killing blow myself. If he is who I think he was, there are others like him.” 

“There is at least one that I know of,” Stroud said apprehensively. “Little is known of him, but he was sealed away in the Vimmark mountains during the Ancient Age by the Grey Wardens. The seals on his prison were reinforced in the last decade.” 

“Reinforced?” Serenity asked, considering the implications. “After all this time, they only required reinforcing now?” 

“I don’t really know,” Stroud answered. “But he is still trapped within his prison.” 

“It can’t be coincidence that the Architect surfaced around the same time,” she said. 

“You think he escaped?” Stroud asked, disconcerted. 

“I hope not. It wouldn’t surprise me if there are those in Weisshaupt that disagree with my choice to dispose of the Architect,” she said hesitantly. “He offered a means to end the blight once and for all, but I thought the alternative would be worse. I couldn’t trust him. I wouldn’t trust this one either."

"I think you made the right call, Commander." 

"It is possible the Architect’s disciples know something of this other ancient darkspawn and are doing what they can to seek him out," Serenity suggested. "Perhaps they're continuing the Architect’s work on their own. All I know of them is that they retreated underground once the civil war ended.” 

“I’ve heard rumors of talking darkspawn, but we have yet to encounter any in our ventures into the Deep Roads,” Stroud said. "Perhaps they would be in the Vinmark mountains." 

“If you do find any, take care to speak with them before killing them,” Serenity advised. “I intend to find one. I believe their blood could be the key to unlocking the secrets of blight magic, or at least, the cure to the Calling. That’s one reason I must return to Ferelden soon. I would like to help you on your investigation, but I can’t join you—not yet.” 

“I understand,” he answered. “If you find anything, I would very much like to hear about it. I’m afraid I am not kept as apprised of the Wardens’ discoveries as the Warden-Commanders are, and even then, the First Warden in Weisshaupt does not share everything.” 

“I will keep in touch,” Serenity promised. “Before I leave, would you know where I could procure a Warden's armor? I intend to remain in Kirkwall a while longer, but my robes draw unwanted attention from the templars. I don’t want them questioning who I am.” 

“We have some spare armor that will fit you,” Stroud said and signaled one of the Wardens to retrieve it from their supply tent. “You will definitely want something that distinguishes you from other mages while in Kirkwall. We had a little bit of trouble ourselves regarding one of the mages in my company.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Serenity smiled. “Before I leave, could you point me in the direction of the nearest ghoul, dead or alive?"

Nonplussed, Stroud answered, "There were quite a few back the way you came. Unless the darkspawn disposed of them. We cleared the path, but they come out from the nooks and crannies in the caverns."

"I will look more carefully on my way out," Serenity answered. She didn't forget the task Avernus set her to. "I look forward to seeing you again, even if it calls me into the dreaded Deep Roads.”


	19. Under Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity seeks out Fenris to ask him about Tevinter, in case she could find a lead on a cure for possession there. The city falls under attack by the Qunari.

Isabela could be found at the Hanged Man most nights after whatever quest she helped Hawke accomplish during the day. After waiting for three days, Serenity grew concerned when she didn’t show up.

“Where is Isabela?” Serenity asked, letting herself in through Varric’s open door. “She said she was going to introduce me to a friend of hers.” 

“You too?” Varric sighed. “Everyone, including some very angry Qunari, are looking for her. She's flown the coop.” 

“With the Qunari after her? Can’t say I blame her,” Serenity said. “I don’t suppose you could introduce me to Fenris?” 

“I could. Did she tell you that he hates mages? Because he hates mages,” Varric said, looking her up and down. She wore the royal blue gambeson of a Grey Warden over a scaled tunic. “I guess you’re not hiding who you are anymore.” 

“I’ve been warned,” Serenity answered. “He won't offend my sensibilities. Everyone always has a reason to hate mages. I doubt my being a Grey Warden will make him feel any better about me. We’re known for resorting to blood magic.” 

“He has good reason. I won't deny it,” Varric shrugged. “But the worst he'll do is make a few sarcastically rude comments.” 

“I like him already,” Serenity smiled. “I don't want to pull you away from anything important. Do you think you might be free before nightfall?” 

“I can always find time for you, Frosty,” Varric answered, closing the ledger on his desk. “Now’s a good time. He’s probably pacing around that empty house as we speak.”

* * *

  


Serenity and Mabari-Cullen followed Varric into Hightown where he opened the unlocked door to Danarius’ manor. 

“You’re not going to knock?” she asked, following him inside hesitantly. 

“He won’t mind,” Varric insisted. “His neighbors, on the other hand, were probably peeking through their windows at us. I expect Aveline will hear some complaints about the dwarf and the elf he invited over. Joke’s on them. He didn’t know we were coming either.” 

“I noticed I receive strange looks when I’m in Hightown,” Serenity said. “Especially when I go to the chantry.” 

“The chantry," Varric chuckled. "They want all to believe in Andraste and the Maker, just in the privacy of your home if you’re not human. That or they don't leave you alone because they think you still need to be saved." 

“Is that why the lay sisters are so attentive and preachy?" Serenity asked. "I noticed whenever I went to the chantry with Alistair, they left him alone. He told me it was because of his haircut, that everyone knew he was a templar just by looking at him. I didn't think it was because of my ears." 

"Sorry to break it to you, Frosty," Varric said, leading her into the main hall. 

“I think your friend could use a housekeeper,” Serenity said. 

“I wouldn’t suggest that to him,” Varric warned. 

“Noted. The cobwebs add character, I suppose,” Serenity said. She gasped when Mabari-Cullen started to lift his leg to piss on a statue and swatted his butt. “Not inside, M.C.” 

“He must’ve gotten confused by the holes in the ceiling. They let in a lot of natural light.” Varric whispered, “Oh, yeah. Don’t mention the glowing tattoos.” 

“The what now…?” 

Fenris stood up from the bench by the fireplace, where he was reading a book. “Varric. Who is this? I presume you have a good reason for bringing a mage into my house.” 

“Lighten up, elf,” Varric answered lightheartedly. “She's the one that asked for the introduction. I'm just here to make it happen.” 

“I’m Serenity, the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden,” she added quickly. She subdued her fascination with the symmetrical markings that covered him from head to toe. “Isabela mentioned you’re from Tevinter. I was hoping you might be able to tell me something about the place in relation to my reason for wanting to go there.” 

”So, you're the Hero of Ferelden that I keep hearing about? I thought you'd be taller.” 

“I get that a lot, actually.” 

“All you need to know about Tevinter is that it’s full of power-hungry mages who love to play with people's lives for their own sick amusement. They’re always vying for power, and they use magic to do it.” 

“I imagine they know magic I’ve never even heard of,” Serenity said. “I am apprehensive about going somewhere so foreign. Spending a year in Orlais was trying enough. The politics in Orzammar are not to be taken lightly either." 

“You can say that again,” Varric muttered. 

“’The Game’ in Tevinter makes those other places pale in comparison,” Fenris said dismissively. “But if there is a place where you'll find mages willing to push the boundaries, it's in Tevinter. What kind of magic are you seeking?”

“I want to find somebody who could kill Justice but spare Anders,” Serenity answered.

“I think that abomination is beyond saving.”

“C'mon, Blondie isn't all bad. He's just got anger issues,” Varric said. 

“He doesn’t know how far I’m willing to go to save what’s left of him,” Serenity said. “If there is a way, I intend to find it. I know it’s possible to save the possessed by killing the demon in the Fade, but I don’t know how to separate a demon from its host when it no longer resides in the Fade. Justice crossed the veil with us. He exists only in Anders now.” 

“The Tevinter mages love to play with blood magic and mind control,” Fenris answered, curling his lip in disgust. “They enjoy invading each other's dreams if they can. It’s anathema, but that doesn’t stop them. Maybe that can open the door for what you seek to accomplish. I would be careful of getting into that one's mind though.”

“Hawke helped one of those,” Varric said. “Feynriel. What did Keeper Marethari call him? A dreamer?” 

“There’s one here?” Serenity asked. “In Sundermount?” 

“Not anymore,” Fenris said. “Hawke should have killed him in the Fade. Instead, she let him leave for Tevinter so he could master the forbidden magic. Foolish.” 

“A ‘dreamer’ indebted to your friend Hawke?” Serenity asked. Perhaps it was time to make her acquaintance and ask for a favor of her own. 

“I don't think Hawke would try to summon Feynriel back from Tevinter if that's what you're going to ask her.”

“If he walks the Fade, he needn't leave Tevinter to come here,” Serenity said. She couldn’t walk the Fade at will, but she knew she found herself in the Circle, at Ostagar, and other faraway places in her dreams sometimes. Rarely and with help. “But I need to understand how it works, if it’s truly a viable option.” 

“That kid only just came into his magic,” Varric said. “If you’re looking for someone with that particular skill, you’re probably going to want to learn from his teacher.” 

“His master, you mean,” Fenris said. “It’s only a matter of time before the boy becomes a tool for murder. It’s disappointing that you would use him for that purpose too, Hero of Ferelden. Just another reason why mages can’t be trusted.” 

“I am not trying to utilize him for murder,” Serenity said defensively. “I am trying to free Anders from possession.” 

“If you insist on dedicating yourself to a lost cause, Tevinter is where you need to go. Though someone of your background may be treated as a foreign dignitary, the mages are always plotting. They will try to use you. Maybe even try to figure out how you work. Do not trust a single one of them,” he warned.

“I appreciate your insight,” she said. “I will see what I can learn about the magic and this boy’s ‘master.’ I am wary about indebting myself to a Tevinter mage.” 

“As you should be,” Fenris said. “It’s bad enough to involve yourself with the Laetans. Stay away from the Altus. They may be more versed in the kind of magic you’re after, but they will make you pay a heavy price for it. You will receive no favors in Tevinter, and the more desperate they think you are, the more they’ll take advantage of you.” 

The more he spoke of the mage society, the more she felt anxious about involving herself in their politics. She had no interest in doing so, but from the way he spoke of the Tevinters, she would have no choice.

“I'm sure you've probably dealt with worse than the Vints,” Varric said. “You’ll be fine, Frosty.” 

Fenris remembered that she was the Warden-Commander that ended the Fifth Blight and that she had certainly seen some nasty things in her line of work. She was likely well versed in blood magic herself for that matter. Which made him no less uncomfortable with her standing on a few feet away from him. 

“Is there anything else you want to know?” he asked and noticed her eyes drift from his eyes to fall on the tattoos adoring his chin. “Are you just going to stare, or are you going to ask me about them?”

“I-I wasn’t staring,” she said quickly, averting her eyes. “They’re lyrium?” 

“Yes. I am walking proof of what happens when mages go unchecked, allowed to experiment as they please.”

“They must be painful. I can't even imagine. Like fire ants crawling under your skin,” she guessed.

“I've grown used to it. I use the pain as motivation.”

“Motivation to kill mages?” Serenity asked. 

“To kill those like the one who turned me into what I am.”

“Slavers?” she asked.

“Tevinters are one and the same," Fenris answered. "But I will take killing one or the other if the situation calls for it.”

“Are they really one and the same?” Serenity asked. “Surely there have to be a few Vints with compassion.” 

“None that I have seen.” 

“I have killed my share of Tevinter slavers. In Denerim, just before the Landsmeet. They were a nasty lot of blood mages,” Serenity said. She had actually found the man in charge terribly charismatic. It made it much harder for her to kill him, which was why she had sent Zevran to do it. She couldn't spare someone so evil just because he'd asked her nicely. He would have continued to take slaves and perform blood sacrifices. He was a monster.

“You killed Tevinter slavers…? Good,” Fenris said approvingly. 

“Did we just become—” Serenity started, interrupted by a nearby explosion that shook the foundation of the manor and startled them. Mabari-Cullen barked and growled in the direction of the door leading outside. 

“What was that?!” Varric asked, stepping aside as a chunk of the ceiling crumbled and fell next to him. 

“Gaatlok,” Fenris said. “The Qunari have finally tired of sitting in their compound.” 

“We need to find Hawke,” Varric said. “Good thing I brought Bianca with me.” 

“I need to get to Lowtown,” Serenity said. “I’m going to the docks.” 

“You know that’s where the Qunari are coming from, right?” Varric asked. 

“That’s also where the templars will be coming from to help,” she said. 

“Well, as fate has it, that’s where we’re going too,” Varric said, reminded that she was sweet on the Knight-Captain. “Hawke was supposed to be meeting the Arishok with Aveline. I wonder if she finally made one too many wise cracks.” 

Fenris picked up his sword. “There’s no time to waste. They’ll be coming into Hightown. We can at least meet them halfway.” 

* * *

  


Serenity followed Varric and Fenris as they navigated Hightown looking for the shortest route into Lowtown. Burning barricades were already set up to block the way and wrought iron gates were let down, seemingly trapping them inside. 

“They’ve been planning this for a long time,” Serenity said after they reached another dead end. 

“I guess we’re going the long way,” Varric said, loosing a bolt into the thigh of an Ashaad dragging a noblewoman towards the Keep. “But we should probably help out while we’re here.” 

Serenity raised her Spellfury to cast Winter’s Breath on the Qunari as he turned to fight them and watched as Fenris seemed to step into the Fade, glowing an ethereal blue from the lyrium embedded in his skin. He walked with purpose as he closed the distance between them. She expected him to cut the frozen Ashaad’s head off with a single swing of his great sword, but instead he reached through the Qunari’s chest without any hindrance from his vitaar, flesh, or bone, and ripped his heart out like a splinter.

“Andraste’s flaming sword,” she muttered and cringed, gripping her staff a little tighter. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

“Neat trick, right?” Varric chuckled. “He’s fun at parties.” 

“Let’s move on,” Fenris said, leading them down the stairs towards Lowtown. 

“I wonder if I can do something similar,” Serenity said, examining the iridescent glow of his skin. “I have only ever used Fade Shroud to avoid being hit.”

“Try it,” Fenris said. “See what happens.” 

“I don’t know that I’m confident enough to get within swinging range of a Karashok,” she said, “just to bruise my fingers on his vitaar.”

“C’mon, Frosty,” Varric grinned. “Live a little!” 

“All right, fine! I’m gonna try it!” 

Mabari-Cullen barked excitedly. 

“That was too easy,” Fenris said and charged a Karashok carrying an unconscious nobleman under his arm. The swing of his sword was enough to make the Qunari drop his cargo and draw the two axes at his belt. Serenity cast Sleep before activating Combat Magic and running over to the Qunari to try to emulate Fenris’ attack. As she reached into the Qunari’s chest, she realized how absolutely disgusting the very idea of it was, but she was only as effective as a reflection of the Fade. Harmless. 

“What are you waiting for? Become solid,” Fenris said. 

“And lose my hand?” she asked, having second thoughts. 

“You might lose your hand, but you would most certainly kill him with your hand wrapped around his heart.” 

“That would make for a great story,” Varric chimed in. 

She felt a lingering memory at the back of her mind and materialized with her hand embedded in the Qunari's chest, confirming her suspicion that the Arcane Warrior's Fade Shroud was not only a defensive maneuver but a deadly weapon. The attack didn't have the same effect Fenris' did, however, instead knocking the Qunari off his feet with a powerful force that dealt enough spirit damage to kill him, even though his heart remained intact. 

“That was... unexpected,” Fenris said, inspecting the dead Qunari as she inspected her hand.

“Thank you," she said. "For inspiring me to try something new. I'm still learning about what it means to be an Arcane Warrior. The memory is fuzzy, but I catch glimpses of it sometimes in a waking dream." 

Fenris sighed. He never thought he would have been responsible for making a mage more powerful. He hated the irony of it. 

* * *

  


At an intersection at the north end of Lowtown, Serenity recognized Stroud speaking with Hawke, Aveline, Anders, and a Dalish elf she recognized from the alienage. Even though there was no way Justice would sit out fighting a Qunari invasion, she was still surprised to see Anders out and about in broad daylight. Soon the streets would be filled with templars lending their aid to the city guard. She was afraid he would lose control of the spirit in their presence. What could she do to help him then?

“Even if we wished to,” Stroud said, “Grey Wardens cannot involve themselves in political struggles. I am sorry.” He looked past Hawke and hesitated when he saw Serenity. “Commander?” 

“You go on ahead,” Serenity answered. “Getting involved where I’m not supposed to is one of my favorite pastimes.” 

“I can attest to that,” Anders said.

“A friend of yours, Anders?” Hawke asked and turned to face Serenity, surprised to see her with Varric and Fenris. “It sounds like we already have a lot in common. Do you also find yourself in caves and other nasty places, retrieving lost items for people?”

“You have no idea,” Serenity answered. 

“This is Serenity, the Hero of Ferelden,” Varric said.

“Oh, you’re THAT Commander. Now I feel underdressed,” Hawke said, extending her hand. “Marian, but you can call me Hawke. Everybody else does. Probably because it sounds more heroic.”

“Do you spend a lot of time saving people in between retrieving lost items and meddling?” Serenity asked. 

“When it suits me,” Hawke answered. “I was in the King's army at Ostagar, not that I was particularly heroic during the blight.”

“I’m glad you made it out alive,” Serenity said. “Not many did.” 

“I remember Duncan returning to the war camp with an elf mage. I kept my distance from the Grey Wardens though. Your order is a bit of a strange bunch. No offense.” 

“You would fit right in,” Serenity said. “I recruit a lot of rapscallions.” 

“It was messy business what happened at Ostagar,” Hawke said. “I'm sorry I didn't stick around to support you, but once Loghain signaled the retreat, I could only think of getting my family to safety. Now I wonder if we might have been better off taking our chances with the blighted bastards.”

“I hear you’ve done well for yourself here,” Serenity said. 

“I’ve lost almost everyone,” Hawke said quietly, losing the vibrancy in her tone. “The only person I have left is confined to the Circle now.” 

“Oh, I’m… sorry,” Serenity said softly. 

“I believe I saw our favorite curly headed templar and a contingent of mages making their way across the lake. Maybe she’s with them,” Hawke said. “Not that I can stay to find out. We need to get moving.”

“I’m meeting them at the docks,” Serenity said. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before the day is over.”

“We’ll all meet at the Hanged Man for celebratory drinks afterwards,” Hawke smirked. 

“You’re going alone?” Anders asked as Serenity started down the steps.

“I won’t be alone for long.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Anders said and looked back at Hawke. “I’m sure you can handle yourself. Just don’t be as reckless as you usually are.” 

“Me, reckless? Perish the thought,” Hawke smiled. 

* * *

  


As they made their way down towards the docks, Serenity studied Anders’ face and asked, “How are you feeling? After what happened?” 

“Is now really the time to ask about that?” Anders asked as his skin cracked with the glow of Justice as a pair of Karashok approached them. 

“When else would I have the chance to ask?” Serenity said and looked over at him. “Andraste’s breath, you’ve got to tone it down a little if you’re coming with me to meet the Knight-Captain!” 

Anders didn’t answer as he brandished his staff and cast a searing fireball at the two Qunari warriors, which gave Mabari-Cullen pause. One of them went down quickly, but the other saw it coming and moved out of range of the blast. 

“Saarebas! Katara!” the Karashok shouted, swinging his great ax overhead. 

Serenity cast Cone of Cold, freezing him before he could strike down Anders, who had cast from an uncharacteristically close distance. “Justice, you’re no longer a warrior carrying a shield,” she scolded him. “Don’t put Anders in danger.” 

Anders shattered the Karashok with Stonefist and turned to face her. “Are you critiquing my technique now?” 

“I suppose I am,” she said, hooking her arm around his to prevent him from moving on without her. “I’m not used to you running out in front of me. It makes me uneasy.” 

“You don’t trust me?” he asked disappointedly. 

“It’s not that,” she assured him. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. If something happens to you, I’m useless. But I could be on the brink of death and you would bring me back. Let me stand between you and the enemy.” 

Anders smiled and freed his arm from her grasp. “Whatever you say, Commander,” he said. 

“How are you feeling? I heard the Knight-Lieutenant was found beneath the Gallows,” Serenity said, continuing down the stairs. She could see the ferry had landed at the pier, but she couldn’t see the mages on the ground with the buildings in the way. 

“I… almost lost control of myself,” Anders admitted. “If Hawke hadn’t been there, I might have made a huge mistake. The mage we saved thought I was… well, maybe she wasn’t so wrong about what I am. But it made me angry.” 

“You think you would have hurt her?” Serenity asked. 

“I… would have killed her.” 

Serenity stood in front of him and put a hand on his chest to stop him. “You shouldn’t stay here,” she said. “You should leave Kirkwall and go somewhere far away. Somewhere without mages whose battles you feel you have to fight.” 

“I can’t do that,” he answered. “You know I can’t. Not when my purpose is to right the injustices the mages face. It would be like denying myself air to breathe.” 

Serenity sighed and noticed the civilians fleeing and cowering where their paths were blocked by burning barricades. The Qunari didn’t appear to be attacking everyone, only the guards and those that resisted. They would find a purpose for those that willingly submitted to the Qun and they would make the rest Viddathari. 

“Can you control Justice enough to hide what you are?” she asked. “At least in the presence of the templars.” 

“I don’t know that I can anymore,” Anders said. “I’ll be careful. As long as I don’t use blood magic, they might ignore the glowing eyes.” 

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Serenity warned. “I’d rather not have to explain your condition. I don’t know that I could lie to Cullen. Not any more than I already have.” 

“Cullen, huh?” Anders asked with an edge of suspicion. “You mean the Knight-Captain? Didn’t he move here from Ferelden’s Circle after the blight?” 

“Yes,” Serenity answered. 

“I didn’t realize you were so… close,” Anders said hesitantly, looking down at her mabari. He had never made that connection before. “You know he’s no better than the others, don’t you? The Knight-Commander likes him for a reason.” 

“That is a point I will argue some other time, but I can assure you he is nothing like the bad ones,” Serenity said. “Even the Knight-Commander didn’t permit Alrik’s abuses. He did those things in secret.” 

“You were right that Alrik’s request was denied,” Anders admitted, “but he only got away with turning mages Tranquil for so long because she turned a blind eye to it just like the Grand Cleric does. If Elthina doesn’t take action to prevent further abuses and stands idly by, allowing the templars to go unchecked when it is in her power—and it is her responsibility—to maintain order, she is just as corrupt as they are.” 

“I haven’t spoken to the Grand Cleric, so I cannot begin to speculate on what she may or may not do,” Serenity said, gripping her staff as a small group of Qunari that hadn’t yet noticed them ran across the street. “Have you?” 

“Yes,” he answered. “She thinks Meredith has everything under control. I can only hope that when she opens her eyes, she doesn’t turn her back on the mages.” 

“Do you hear that?” Serenity asked and ran down the steps toward the sound of clashing metal, the crack of lightning, and the rush of fire spells. 

When she turned the corner, she found Cullen and a red-headed templar fighting beside a group of eight mages. Among them, Serenity recognized the robes of First Enchanter Orsino. She barely had time to join the fray before the mages decimated the small group of Karashok with their Primal spells. Anders quickly activated Panacea and Heroic Aura to help them recuperate from the fight. 

“Grey Wardens…? Are you here to help us?” Orsino asked, surprised to see Serenity also wielded a staff. 

Serenity thought she saw a fleeting look of recognition on the First Enchanter's face and wondered if he knew Anders as being involved with the Mage Underground. If he did, he didn’t let on that he knew he was an apostate. So long as he was in the company of a Grey Warden, it was a lie he could hide behind. 

“We are,” Serenity answered and met Cullen’s eyes. “The Qunari have already reached Hightown and barricaded many of the streets to corral us into their traps.” 

“I knew they would be organized, but I didn't realize how much of the city they would be able to take control of in such a short time,” Cullen sighed. “The Knight-Commander was having a meeting with the Grand Cleric in the chantry. We’ll meet up with her and the Captain of the Guard in Hightown. I brought Knight-Lieutenant Samantha and seven of the First Enchanter’s most talented mages.”

“I still think we should have brought more,” Samantha said. 

“We’re fortunate she let us fight at all,” Orsino said. “But even the Knight-Commander can’t deny how useful our talents are. Now, we need to hurry!”

“More coming!” Anders shouted and pushed down his urge to raise his staff and fight with all that he had to offer. He had to stand back and heal, hiding Justice under his skin. Even if they all believed he was a Grey Warden, they wouldn’t overlook an abomination. 

“We can hold them off,” Serenity offered. 

“Just the two of you?” Samantha balked. 

Mabari-Cullen barked and growled. 

“Three,” Samantha corrected herself. “Knight-Captain?” 

“I will assist the Warden-Commander in covering the rear to prevent them from slowing us down,” Cullen answered. “Protect the First Enchanter and keep pushing forward.” 

“Yes, ser!”

“Anders, go with them,” Serenity ordered. She could see him restraining from rolling his eyes, but he turned to catch up to the others. She knew he might tease her later, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t just that she wanted to be alone with Cullen, she also couldn’t risk Anders slipping up in his presence. 


	20. The Reaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting by Cullen's side, Serenity throws the Wardens' rules by the wayside and helps defend the city. She witnesses Hawke's battle against the Arishok and her elevation to the Champion of Kirkwall.

Cullen looked at Serenity, having never seen her in uniform before—or armor, for that matter. He didn’t expect to find her there in the midst of battle, but it put his mind at ease to have her at his side. She was as valuable an ally in battle as the First Enchanter himself, but more importantly, he could stand between her and the Qunari.

“You stayed,” he said softly. 

“I couldn’t leave you to fight the Qunari alone,” she answered before lifting her staff and surrounding herself with an empowering aura barely discernible to the human eye. Whatever fatigue Cullen might have felt after climbing the stairs and fighting the first band of Qunari was replaced by renewed invigoration. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep for as long as I would have to wait for your letter. Did you know you can die from sleep deprivation within a matter of days?”

Cullen raised his shield as he counted the approaching Qunari coming from the direction of the compound. “I will be sure to write you more,” he answered, stepping in front of her. He could already imagine the conversation his sister would have with her if they ever met. He needed to write her more too.

“Saarebas!” Serenity shouted, casting Mana Clash on the Qunari that stopped behind the three Karashok that charged them.

Cullen didn’t know Qunlat, but he knew that word. _Saarebas. Mage._ He recognized the mask and chains and silenced the mage before he could cast a spell. The saarebas looked confused, probably because their Qunari keepers didn’t have the abilities of a templar even though they filled the same role.

Raising his shield, Cullen deflected the sword of the closest warrior as M.C. charged between the Qunari to overwhelm the helpless mage at the rear. He had never really seen the Qunari up close before, having no reason to approach one. He had seen them from the docks, standing at the gate to the compound. He knew they were tall and there was a reason they were called ‘giants,’ but their warriors were more imposing than he thought. 

Their vitaar, he knew, acted the same as armor, but it also decorated them in designs that left them vulnerable between the lines. When Serenity assisted him by concentrating on a spell that put the three warriors to sleep, it made killing them much easier. He might have missed the narrow strip of unpainted skin between the ribs had his target been moving. The others wore their paint in different ways that would have slowed him down to study.

The first two Karashok went down easily enough, only waking as he drove his sword through them. Serenity cast Horror on the third. He recognized the spell by the violet strands of energy that seemed to house faces stretched and mangled in the air. He hated that spell and didn’t think it should have any place in the Circle’s library or classrooms. The spell unnerved him as it allowed feeding one’s energy to demons across the veil without the use of blood magic. The spirits would rend the target’s mind with terrifying visions. He had been the target of such a spell when the blood mages took over the Ferelden Circle, and although his resistance limited the duration of its effects, he still found himself unable to think straight while his mind was assaulted.

He tried not to think about the magic Serenity chose to employ and how cruel the spell was. It didn’t really matter, considering who she was casting the spell on. He had just slain two of the Qunari himself. What difference did it make if they died at the end of a sword or to a nightmare? 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that it did matter. But if he asked her about it, what would she say? 

Her magic had saved his life. It saved hers and all of Ferelden. 

“Do you need a lyrium potion?” Cullen asked, sheathing his sword as his eyes lingered on the last Karashok to fall. 

“No, I’m okay,” Serenity answered. “Let’s hurry.”

He wanted to ask her about the spell, but he held his tongue. She was right—they needed to keep moving. 

They ran up the stairs, past the burning barricades and the Hanged Man before stopping to dispatch two more groups of Qunari making their way into Hightown. It took more time than they’d hoped to spend, knowing the others were likely facing graver dangers ahead. They both knew the mages were anything but helpless, especially with so many of them working in tandem.

Serenity slowed when she noticed several injured humans huddled together near wagons and debris. 

“It looks like they were assaulted,” she said, confused, and turned to look at Cullen. “I would have thought the Qunari would either kill them outright or let them go. Injured laborers would not serve well under the Qun.”

“They might have tried to resist,” he suggested and lowered his voice. “I don’t have enough bandages or poultices to treat everyone. Nor do we have the time.” 

“Please, don’t hurt us!” one of the women cried out.

“Me?” Serenity asked and exchanged looks with Cullen. M.C. whined, tilting his head, and nosed the frightened woman’s foot.

“You should take refuge in your homes,” Cullen advised them. “It’s not safe out here on the street.”

“We can’t,” the woman answered. “The fires are burning.”

Serenity turned her staff on the barricade nearby and cast a cone of cold to put out the flames. “Did the Qunari attack you?”

“The elves,” the woman answered. “They’re traitors! They fight alongside the ox men!”

“From the alienage?” Cullen asked, surprised.

“We should try not to kill them,” Serenity suggested. “If we run into them, I’ll put them to sleep.”

“They’re traitors!” the woman shouted. “They attacked us for no reason at all! We’re just trying to survive!”

“The city guard can deal with them after this is over. They will face trial,” Cullen assured her and turned to Serenity. “We should move on.”

Cullen led Serenity and M.C. towards Hightown and stopped at the top of another set of stairs as an Ashaad accompanied by a group of elves set upon them with knives and bows. Serenity put the group to sleep and cast Horror on the Ashaad to immobilize him long enough for Cullen to put him down. 

“This spell may not hold long enough to prevent them from hurting anybody else,” she said and looked at Cullen. “What should we do?”

He looked around for any sign of the city guards, but any left in Lowtown lay dead in the street. “First, we need to disarm them,” he said and started with the knives in the hands of the nearest elf. “How easily do they wake from this spell?”

“They’re deep asleep right now,” Serenity answered, taking the sword from one of the elves. “But if they become imbalanced, sometimes the sense of falling will wake them. Or if something were to hit them. That’s usually how I do it.”

Cullen chuckled, “Don’t go hitting any of them just yet. We’ll try to reason with them. They know we can’t arrest them, not when the city is under siege. But without any weapons, they might just return to their homes.”

“They would be foolish not to,” Serenity said, retrieving the bow and arrows from the furthest elf. She tossed their weapons in a pile and hooked the end of her staff behind the nearest elf’s knee so it buckled and he fell forward, startling awake.

“What—what happened?!” the elf asked and yelped when he realized he was face to face with a snarling mabari. “G-good boy. Don’t kill me.” He straightened up as he surveyed the pile of weapons and his sleeping colleagues. “Oh… oh, no.”

“That’s an appropriate response,” Serenity said. “You and your friends are going to give up this fight of yours. Wake them, or I will.”

Cullen was unaccustomed to hearing the tone Serenity took with the elf. How often, he wondered, did she use her magic to intimidate people? It was a harmless sleep spell, but he knew she was capable of so much more—as did the elf that went about shaking the shoulders of his comrades, knowing if he ran, a bolt of lightning might strike him dead in the street. 

“Now that we have your attention,” Cullen said as the group came to, “you’ll give up this senseless violence and return to the alienage.”

“There’s only two of them,” one of them whispered, “If we rush them, we can get away—”

“Are you out of your damned mind? They have a dog,” the other one whispered back.

“I can _hear_ you,” Cullen said, crossing his arms. “We’re letting you leave with your lives. If you insist on being put in chains, I might just make that happen.”

Serenity could hear the undertone of annoyance and incredulity in his voice and subdued a chuckle. “Or would you rather I feed you to the darkspawn?” she offered. “Have you seen a darkspawn ogre? He’ll rip you in two like a piece of sausage.”

“We… we should go,” another elf urged. “What’s worse? Being fed to the darkspawn or taken to the Circle of Magi?”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, unable to hide his indignation. Did they really just suggest the templars were worse than the darkspawn? Really?

“Go home, you fools,” Serenity said and whacked the thigh of an approaching elf who apparently thought he was allowed to retrieve his weapon from the pile beside her. “What in Andraste’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“The Qunari will never treat us with respect if we don’t at least have weapons!” he argued.

“You can join the Qun as we chase them out of the city if you like,” she answered and gathered up their weapons to throw them into the burning barricade at the nearby alleyway. M.C. growled and barked, scaring them off.

Once the elves retreated down the steps, presumably to return to the alienage, Cullen said, “You really threatened to feed them to the darkspawn.”

“And they believed it,” she said, just as surprised as he was. 

“I don’t know that they believed the threat so much as the tone you said it with,” he answered with the hint of a smile. “I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

“I guess it’s become second nature to be more assertive,” she admitted, relieved to see he didn’t disapprove of how she handled the situation. On the contrary, he seemed amused by it.

“Not just assertive,” he said, very much familiar with how stern she could be. He had butted heads with her once before in the Ferelden Circle and had fortunately lost that argument. “You can be a little bit intimidating when you mean to be.”

“Only a little bit?” she asked.

“You might be more intimidating if you had horns like a Qunari,” he smiled, decidedly not mentioning her smaller stature didn’t lend to being scary—or that having magic or a mabari did. “Let’s catch up to Orsino.”

They weren’t too far behind, but they did slow down to fight another group of Qunari heading into Hightown. There seemed to be very few bands of warriors left in Lowtown, which meant they had gathered with the Arishok at the most fortified building in Kirkwall. Cullen only hoped they hadn’t planted their explosives around the city to see it crumble to the ground around them. He didn’t know enough about the Qunari to know whether they would take such drastic destructive measures to control the populace.

“Knight-Captain!” Meredith shouted, drawing their attention away from the dead-end they’d almost run towards.

“Knight-Commander,” Cullen greeted her. “Orsino and the mages are up ahead with Samantha. They didn’t meet with you?”

“No,” Meredith answered and looked past him at Serenity, immediately recognizing her as a mage not of the Circle. But she saw the insignia on her breastplate and said, “A Grey Warden? I thought your order wasn’t getting involved.”

“They’re not,” Serenity answered. “It might be to my detriment, but when I see a problem, I want to fix it. The Qunari would annul the Circle of Magi in their own way if they succeeded here.”

“Your loyalty to the Circle is not unexpected,” Meredith noted. “However, the mages are not the only ones who will suffer at the hands of the Qunari if their attack on Kirkwall goes unabated. If you are helping to prevent this city from falling to the Qunari, then it is help I welcome.”

“I will fight beside your people, Knight-Commander,” Serenity said.

“This way,” Meredith said, leading them back from whence she came. “I met that famed warrior, Hawke. She’s on her way with Aveline to meet us at the Keep. I pray it has not already fallen into the hands of the Arishok.”

* * *

  
Anders stayed close to the First Enchanter’s side, resisting every temptation to speak with him candidly about the state of the Circle of Magi. Even if a moment of silence fell between them, presenting him the opportunity to have a conversation, he was aware of the Knight-Lieutenant within earshot of them at all times.

The Qunari were around every corner as they made their way through the city. It became harder and harder to hide what he was as the battles raged on, demanding more and more from him. When they were ambushed and surrounded by a group of several Arvaarad and Saarebas, Anders lost what little control he had over the spirit inside him, and his skin cracked with the fury of Justice.

Three of the Circle mages were taken down by the Arvaarad before Justice decimated them with Anders’ spells, augmented by his inherent strength. By martyring his own health and utilizing the blood of his enemies, Anders was able to enact swift justice with a stunning blast that knocked even his allies off their feet.

The Knight-Lieutenant had been distracted by the three Saarebas she prevented from casting, but she too was struck by the powerful force of magic at her back.

Anders realized after killing most of the Qunari with Tempest that he had hurt the people he was trying to help. The glow of Justice faded as he quickly healed the mages he had tried so desperately to protect. He was able to aid his allies and regroup those that had fallen, except for the three that had lost their lives.

“What was that?” Samantha demanded, watching Anders with suspicion. Her back had been turned, but the Saarebas had been in front of her.

“I—I’m sorry,” Anders started, fearing he might have to flee before finishing what he started. He could feel the burn of Justice under his skin, threatening to protect him from the Knight-Lieutenant at all costs. But he knew she wasn’t the enemy—not right now. He had saved them all from the Qunari assailants, but at the cost of hurting them too.

“If you cannot control your magic—” Samantha started and turned at the sound of heavy footfalls. “Andraste’s arse, there are more of them. Be careful where you aim those damned spells, mage!”

Anders was shaking with adrenaline and the internal fight inside him as Justice vied for control of his body. The demeaning tone the templar took with him made his skin burn hot, but more than that, he was aware of the city burning around them. The Qunari wanted to enslave the people and killed all who opposed them—it was unjust. Their treatment of their own mages, with the chains, the thread through the lips, the tongues cut out—

Hawke, Aveline, Merrill, Fenris, and Varric showed up and dispatched the second wave of Qunari that attempted to thwart the mages’ pursuit of the Arishok. Having them removed from the vicinity allowed Anders some reprieve from the demand of Justice. It felt hard for him to breathe as his every muscle tensed with the struggle for control over himself.

Hawke surveyed the carnage and looked over at Anders. “Did you lose your temper?” she asked evenly.

Orsino helped Bethany to her feet and said quickly, “The Grey Warden proved indispensable in the fight.”

“Where are Curly and Frosty?” Varric asked.

“They were right behind us,” Anders answered, catching his breath.

“First Enchanter Orsino, you survive,” Meredith said, approaching the group with Cullen, Serenity, and a group of templars behind her.

“Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander,” Orsino answered.

“There is no time for talk. We must strike back before it’s too late.”

“And who will lead us into this battle? You?”

“I will fight to defend this city as I always have!” Meredith snapped back. 

“To control it, you mean! I won’t have our lives tossed to the flames to feed your vanity!” Orsino argued.

“You two can’t get along even in the face of a Qunari invasion?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms. “The mages and the templars should be united against the common enemy, not at each other’s throats. You need each other now, don’t you? And _we_ need you both.”

Orsino opened his mouth to speak and shut it ashamedly as he reconsidered his fight. He knew Meredith would grasp at power wherever she could take it. Leading this battle against the Arishok would afford her more respect and credence in the future, taking away from the mages under her thumb—but there was an immediate threat to every innocent life in Kirkwall that they had to deal with one way or another.

Meredith was not one to hold her tongue, however. She was about to speak, but then she was cut off by the sharp sound of Hawke’s laughter.

Hawke was pleased to finally hear somebody call them out on their bullshit. “You’ve struck a nerve, Warden.”

“This is ridiculous,” Meredith muttered.

“I do believe this is the Knight-Commander’s province more than anyone’s,” Hawke continued. “If you two won’t kiss and make up, however, I would be more than happy to lead. Or, would the Hero of Ferelden prefer to take charge?”

“The Hero of Ferelden?” Meredith repeated, turning to face Serenity with scrutiny.

“I’m not even supposed to be here,” Serenity reminded her, avoiding eye contact with Meredith.

“I am taking charge,” Meredith announced sternly and looked at Orsino. “Are you with me or not?”

Orsino sighed and nodded, “You have our cooperation, Knight-Commander.”

“Was that so hard?” Hawke asked, immediately noticing the way Anders furrowed his brow with distaste. He clearly had a problem with them encouraging the First-Enchanter to be subservient. “Let’s go light those Qunari bastards on fire. It’ll make us all feel better.”

When they closed in on the Keep and Aveline’s guardsmen were nowhere to be found, they discovered a dozen of the Antaam standing outside the front door. They knew it was the only way inside.

“We must assault them now before their numbers grow,” Meredith advised, drawing her sword.

“Are you mad?” Orsino challenged her. “They have hostages! We need a distraction.”

“I am in charge,” Meredith reminded him. “I refuse to play games. We attack.”

“It seems the Qunari are under the misguided impression that their hostages are worth something,” Hawke quipped.

“Aren’t they your neighbors, Chuckles?” Varric asked.

“Not one of them would let me borrow their sugar.”

“Perhaps Aveline will stop receiving complaints about me,” Fenris added.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered. It wasn’t his place to advise the Knight-Commander to take the First Enchanter’s advice, at least not in the presence of others, but he could see she was fuming at Hawke’s glib attitude.

“I will cause a distraction,” Serenity offered. “If they see a group of armored soldiers, one will call for reinforcements. They wouldn’t feel threatened by a single elf.”

“No,” Orsino stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “It was my idea. I will do my part.”

“And just how will you do this?” Meredith asked, conceding to their plan. She didn’t like it, not when they could overpower the Qunari guards. But she was outnumbered.

“Have confidence, Knight-Commander,” Orsino assured her and went to draw away the Qunari with a couple of fireballs. Bethany and his other mages could help finish them off once they were drawn away, while the others entered through the cleared path.

“I will ensure the mages don’t bite off more than they can chew,” Meredith said. “Knight-Captain, follow Hawke. She will need all the help she can get if the Arishok awaits.”

“Yes, Knight-Commander,” Cullen answered, surprised she hadn’t sent him to aid Orsino instead. She never did like letting the First Enchanter out of her sight for long, however.

* * *

  
When Hawke entered the main hall where the hostages were being held, she saw the head of Viscount Dumar at the foot of the stairs. They were largely outnumbered, even with the unarmed nobles present. They were useless as they were, even if most of them were trained in swordplay.

Serenity remained behind in the foyer with Cullen and M.C. to ward off the Karashok that continued to pour in from the adjoining halls. 

“Coming through!” Isabela yelled, slamming the door behind her as a group of Karashok followed on her heels.

“Isabela?” Serenity asked, surprised.

“Oh, hello, sweet thing! We’ll have to catch up after—” she sighed when the door was hacked through with an ax and broken down behind her.

“We’ve got this,” Cullen said, rejoining Serenity downstairs to hold off the Qunari Isabela led to the Keep.

“Thanks, darlings,” Isabela said and ran past them with the book of Koslun under her arm. 

Hawke refused to turn Isabela over to the Qunari and accepted the Arishok’s challenge. It was an easy decision to make. She was fond of Isabela, even if she did sail halfway to Ostwick before coming to her senses. And fighting the Arishok would give her the opportunity to release some deeply pent up rage.

  
Serenity slipped into the room behind Cullen as the spectators gave Hawke and the Arishok a wide berth. She knew the fighting wasn't over yet—not until the Arishok lay dead. She wasn't sure Hawke would win. The Arishok was powerful, unwavering, and respected as the best of the Antaam. He was stronger, but as they fought, Hawke proved she was faster and just as able as a warrior.

Serenity didn’t let the clamor of the fight distract her as she looked around the room to consider the position of the Qunari, Kirkwall's forces, and the nobles, so she could try to formulate a plan of attack should Hawke fail. If she lost the duel, how many of the nobles present would die in the ensuing battle? 

All eyes were on Hawke, the room silent as they waited for one side to come out on top of the other.

Cullen still held his shield and tightly gripped the handle of his sword. Serenity moved closer beside him and held his arm above his elbow, obscured by his shield. It was a small show of affection, one she knew nobody would see as nobody was looking. It grounded him, pulling his attention away from the intensity of the battle just long enough for him to meet her eyes and remember to breathe.

She wanted to say, 'I'm here. I'll stay close to you, whatever happens.'

She could read something in his eyes. She knew he had some apprehension about going into battle against the Qunari, but she also knew he never had any doubt. The templars alone were a force to be a reckoned with, but with the mages at their sides, the only way the Qunari would leave Kirkwall at the end of this would be as ashes scattered to the wind. If Hawke could end it now, however, there needn't be any more waste of life.

When the battle first started, it looked like the Arishok might win, but as it progressed, Hawke wore him down by attrition. He was a seasoned veteran of Seheron and the Antaam's most respected general—but Hawke proved unstoppable. She was _valo-kasari_ and a fierce berserker.

When the battle met its violent end and Hawke stood over the Arishok, victorious, the Qunari retreated and the Knight-Commander ran into the room with Orsino at her side. Serenity reluctantly relinquished her hold on Cullen’s arm and took a step away from him before anyone could notice.

It was over.

Hawke, a human woman, defeated the Arishok in single combat. 

Serenity exchanged one last look with Cullen before slipping away and hoped the Knight-Commander wouldn’t put together that she was the same mage from the rumors that circulated about her Knight-Captain. With any luck, the Knight-Commander would have her hands too full with rebuilding Kirkwall after the death of the Viscount that she would forget Serenity was there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qunlat translation:
> 
> valo-kasari - frontline infantry soldier with a greatsword


	21. Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity leaves Kirkwall and returns to the Circle in Ferelden in her search for a cure for possession. She takes M.C. to Denerim to stay with Alistair for the duration of her study and has a dream in which she becomes lucid.

As curious as Serenity was about the tales of magic cast in the streets of Minrathous, the animals they used as steeds, and their decadent culture, Fenris’ warnings about the Tevinter Imperium set her teeth on edge every time she considered making the journey. She didn’t want to play the Game, not in Orlais, not in Orzammar, and most certainly not in Tevinter. She knew more than the average Circle mage, at least in Ferelden and Kirkwall, but the Vints had access to knowledge and tomes that would be set to fire or under lock and key in most other countries.

She chose instead to write Feynriel and boarded the ship to Ferelden. She wanted to learn more about Feynriel’s magic and whether it was even possible to separate Anders from Justice in the Fade. She also needed to know what his master would want in exchange for his services. In the meantime, she would try to find an alternative method for exorcising Justice. 

She would begin her search at Kinloch Hold, not only because they had the largest library in Ferelden and the First Enchanter knew more than he let on, but the Ferelden Circle still provided her some sense of comfort. After what happened in Kirkwall, she longed for the familiarity of the tower and its residents. She wanted to speak with Irving and, more importantly, she had questions for Greagoir.

When Serenity crossed Lake Calenhad and walked into the Circle of Magi, Ser Hadley was there to meet her. “Where is the Knight-Commander?” she asked. 

“Greagoir is still in Denerim,” Ser Hadley answered. “I’m acting interim Knight-Commander. What can I do for you, Warden?”

“Has something happened? Is he sick?” she asked. It was unusual for him to be gone for so long. He had never been away from the Circle for that long before. 

“I cannot say more about Greagoir’s reason for leaving the Circle, I’m afraid,” Ser Hadley answered guardedly.

“He hasn’t retired then?” she asked cautiously. “Is he still the Knight-Commander?”

Ser Hadley sighed. She used to respect their boundaries, but since becoming a Grey Warden, he could see she didn’t feel bound by the rules anymore. “He has retired to Denerim. It was his decision after careful consideration.” “I see,” Serenity said, considering the implications of his earlier absence from the Circle. She assumed Greagoir had intended to return to duty. She wondered if he had gone to see a doctor or perhaps Grand Cleric Elemena before. “But he’s in Denerim, not Val Royeaux? Don’t most templars retire there?”

“It’s true. They often do. The Divine and the Knight-Vigilant both reside in the Orlesian capital. But as far as I know, Greagoir wanted to remain in Ferelden,” Ser Hadley answered. “Surely you didn’t come here just to inquire about the Knight-Commander. What business do you have in the Circle now?”

“I was hoping I could stay for a while as a guest,” Serenity answered. “I wanted to peruse the library and speak with First Enchanter Irving.”

“You… wish to stay here?” Ser Hadley asked, clearly taken off guard by request. “You would have to abide by our rules like every other mage residing here.”

“I won’t wear the golden pajamas,” she said, crossing her arms. “I will wear my own robes.”

“Fine,” Ser Hadley answered. “But the dog—”

“I will leave him in Denerim for the time being,” she said. Mabari-Cullen whined. 

“I will speak with Irving,” Ser Hadley said. “I doubt he will have any objection to your staying. I don’t either, so long as you don’t distract the templars from their duties.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Serenity smiled. “I promise you I’m here to study. I’ll be busy, not bored.”

“As you say,” Ser Hadley answered. “I wouldn’t deny the Hero of Ferelden the opportunity to better herself.”

“Thank you, Ser Hadley. For what it’s worth, I think you will make a fine Knight-Commander,” she said. He certainly followed in Greagoir’s footsteps, fair and not overly strict. He had always proved to be a patient man with the apprentices. Even after Uldred’s attack on the Circle, Ser Hadley remained affable, even more so than his predecessor. “I’ll leave for Denerim now and come back in a week.”

“Maker smile upon you.”

* * *

  
In Denerim, Serenity met Alistair at the Gnawed Noble Tavern, not the least bit surprised to see him rubbing elbows with the common folk. Mabari-Cullen nearly knocked him out of his seat at the table as he bounded over and set his paws on Alistair’s lap to lick his face.

“All right, all right. Down, boy. I’m happy to see you too,” Alistair laughed and stood up from his seat to greet Serenity. “And you. Maker, it’s been… too long. You don’t write as often. Is it something I said?”

“Oh… no, of course not,” Serenity said and realized by the smile on his face that he was kidding. It had been so long since she last saw him that she forgot how to take a joke. “It’s strange being back here. I know I’ve dropped in a couple of times, but whenever I see Denerim, it reminds me of that last week of the blight.” 

She didn’t want to admit that she still harbored some feelings of guilt for how they parted ways. It felt so abrupt. They had been so close and so vulnerable with one another—and then she pressured him into taking the crown and she walked away. It was a relief to see him smile and to hear such high opinions from citizens all over Ferelden that approved of Alistair and Anora’s joint rule.

“Is that why you've been keeping busy so far away from here?” he asked. 

“No, it’s not that,” she assured him. “Not all of my memories from that time are bad.”

“Good,” Alistair said, almost certain she dwelled on their argument over Loghain. It was a decision he still stood behind. “I miss those nights around the campfire sometimes. I still have Wynne fussing over me. She makes me feel right at home on those days I think of you.” 

“Is ruling as bad as you thought it would be?” Serenity asked. “The people adore you.” 

“It's not all that bad. I've been told that I'm learning faster than they expected,” Alistair said. “Which doesn’t really sound like a compliment, now that I think about it.” 

“What about Anora?” Serenity asked. “Do you two get along? Are you… content?” 

“It wasn’t easy at first,” Alistair answered, keeping his voice low. The establishment was nearly empty, but he couldn’t have anyone overhearing anything about his personal relationship with the queen. “I know I’m not the easiest person to live with. I was… kind of terrible, actually. Whenever I tried to reach out, she would pull away. Whenever she gracefully put aside her pride and anger, I withdrew. Then, one day, we just… talked. It’s taken time, but I can honestly say I don’t look at her and see her father anymore.” 

“That’s a relief,” Serenity said.

“It helps she doesn’t look like a melted candlestick,” he said. 

“I could see how that might make things uncomfortable,” Serenity said, giving him a suggestive look. 

“Ugh! Get out of my head! I don’t want to think about that when we’re—” Alistair groaned embarrassedly and looked around when she laughed. “Have you been spending time with Morrigan? That’s something she would say.” 

“I hardly said a thing!” Serenity laughed. 

“But I know what you meant,” Alistair said. “You made a face and put the picture in my head, and now I’m going to think about it—you cruel woman.” 

“I refuse to take the blame for this,” Serenity grinned and nudged Mabari-Cullen with her knee. “Alistair has a dirty mind, doesn’t he? It’s his fault, not mine.” 

Mabari-Cullen looked at Alistair, waiting for a bribe with a treat. 

Alistair knew exactly what he was waiting for. “Have you no shame?” 

Mabari-Cullen looked at Serenity and wagged his tail as he barked in agreement with her. 

Alistair sighed and smiled, feeling nostalgic for their company. He hadn’t heard her laugh in years. “In your last letter, you mentioned Morrigan going through the eluvian,” he said. “But what have you been doing since?” 

“I spent some time in Kirkwall,” Serenity answered. “I'm going to be continuing my magic studies at Kinloch Hold for a while. A friend of mine has become an abomination... and I’m reluctant to let him see the same fate as Connor.”

“Suddenly dealing with Orlais doesn’t sound so bad,” Alistair said. “You know you did all you could for Connor, don’t you? I know I… wasn’t very understanding at the time. I wasn’t fair to you, but I’ve come to see it your way.”

“I wonder sometimes if that’s true,” Serenity said. “After meeting so many demons, maybe she could have been reasoned with. Maybe she would have spared Connor and Redcliffe long enough for us to make it to the Circle and back. I was too afraid at the time to consider talking. I only knew that demons had to be killed.” 

“It sounds like you have a lot more experience with demons since then,” he said apprehensively. “You didn’t keep those scrolls of Banastor, did you? I saw you reading them. I never said anything about it because… I trusted you. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t. But you haven’t… made any deals, have you?” 

“No,” Serenity answered before she had a moment to think about it. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Of all her friends, he had been the most accepting of her questionable decisions. But she couldn’t bear to disappoint him now and tell him about Pride. “But I’ve spoken to them. You were there when we spoke to Sofia Dryden and the cat in Honnleath.” 

“I know you don’t need to hear it from me, but… be careful,” Alistair warned. “Is this friend anyone I know? It can't be Oghren. Any demon entering him would just die of alcohol poisoning. I feel bad for the next Archdemon—it’ll be having nightmares about Oghren instead of the other way around.”

“Oghren is doing well,” Serenity laughed and said proudly, “He has a daughter, you know. He named her after me.” 

“I can’t imagine Oghren as a father,” Alistair admitted.

“Neither could he,” Serenity said. “But I told him I’d feed him to the darkspawn if he didn’t dedicate himself to his family as wholeheartedly as he did everything else he gave himself to. He felt unworthy, but… he deserves happiness. When he’s with Felsi, I can see that in him.” 

“I’m just imagining a short, chubby little Serenity running around belching now,” Alistair grinned. “Hopefully she doesn’t grow up to kill darkspawn. At least they don’t have to worry about her coming into magic.” 

Serenity crossed her arms. “I see you still put your foot in your mouth.” 

“That did come out wrong,” Alistair cringed. “I don’t mean that your magic is bad—or that it makes you bad. I feel like I’m digging myself into a deeper hole. I’m going to stop talking now.” 

“To answer your earlier question,” Serenity said, “You met my friend. I conscripted him in your presence at Vigil’s Keep. I’ll tell you all about him later.” 

“I hope that means you’ll stay at the palace as a royal guest,” Alistair said. “You’ll have to make an appearance at dinner.” 

“Will there be cake?” 

“'Will there be cake?' Of course there’s cake! Why wouldn’t there be cake?” Alistair scoffed. “So, it’s settled then. You'll be our guest and sleep in one of the castle's cushy beds.”

“I can’t turn down a cushy bed,” Serenity said. 

“And you won’t kneel again, will you?” he asked, afraid she might try to keep up appearances in front of Anora or his uncle Teagan. “I'm sure no one would complain if you just bowed.”

“Nonsense,” Serenity said. “I'm setting an example.”

“It just feels sort of… wrong. Don't you think? You're the Hero of Ferelden. You shouldn't have to kneel to a simple king,” he said lightheartedly.

“I was given that title by you, Your Majesty. You deserve it as much as I,” she said. “Had you beaten me to the Archdemon and slain it yourself, I doubt anyone would know my name. And if not for you, I wouldn’t be here at all. I owe you my life, Alistair. Kneeling is the least I can do.”

“All of Ferelden would still know your name,” he frowned. “And I’d still prefer if you didn’t kneel.” 

“Fine,” Serenity conceded. “I will not kneel. I can’t exactly argue with royalty, can I?” 

Alistair grinned, “Great! I'm winning negotiations already.”

“How could I resist when you make that face like a kicked puppy?”

“It’s my deadliest weapon,” he smirked. 

“Speaking of puppies,” she said, patting Mabari-Cullen on top of his head. “Could he stay with you for a while? I hate to part with him, but the Circle won’t allow him to stay there with me. I could be there for a few months.” She felt her heart ache when Mabari-Cullen whined and quickly assured him, “I will visit you, I promise. I’ll only be at the Circle, not in Orlais.”

“Of course he can stay with me. I could use an extra guard,” he said. “I wonder if it’s breeding season yet. I love it when we have puppies in the kennel. Their teeth are like needles, but they’re so cute. Deadly and cute.” 

“Don't you feed him too many scraps,” Serenity said, rubbing Mabari-Cullen’s chin. “I can't have him being fat and lazy when I need him again.” 

Mabari-Cullen whined again. 

“I’m kidding,” Serenity said, leaning down to plant a kiss on the tip of his wet nose. She noticed then that his muzzle was greying. “My old boy. You deserve to be pampered. Give him daily belly rubs for me, won’t you?”

“Daily belly rubs now? What happened to not spoiling him rotten?” Alistair asked. “Fine. I’ll assign a servant to him if I can’t do it. Anora will question it, but I’m sure he can be convincing.”

Bann Teagan approached their table and said, “There you are, Alistair. The queen has been asking for you.” He bowed slightly to Serenity and said, “I beg your pardon, Warden-Commander. It’s good to see you again.” 

“And you,” she answered and smiled at Alistair. “You mustn’t keep her waiting. I’ll come by in the evening. I need to find somebody first.” 

* * *

  
Serenity found Mother Perpetua in the Denerim Market District and inquired on the whereabouts of Greagoir. He had retired to an apartment near the Chantry where he could be easily seen to by the priests as his health declined. Serenity wondered if he was more fortunate than other retired templars. She had seen lyrium-addicts on the streets of Kirkwall, expelled from the order and left to suffer their symptoms at the hand of the Chantry. She had seen elder templars still standing vigilant while suffering the loss of their mental faculties. She was relieved Greagoir saw some form of care, even if it was only a knock on his door from a Chantry sister to ask if he needed anything.

She easily found the address Mother Perpetua gave her, but Greagoir didn’t answer when she knocked. She waited and tried to peer through the window. It was too dark inside to see anything beyond the murky glass. Had she missed him inside the chantry? Or might she find him in the market? 

She waited for a while, but when he didn’t return home, she decided to settle in at the palace. She would try to find him another day. For all she knew, he had left Denerim for the time being. Maybe he chose to spend his retirement traveling.

Serenity took a bath in the porcelain claw-footed tub, soaking in rose petals as she stared up at the ornate ceiling. It felt oddly surreal to be there. For a room that didn’t see many guests, it was kept impeccably clean. There was a brass bust of a human on the mantle across from her bed, and she had no idea who it was supposed to be.

She stood up from the bath and wrapped a towel around herself before gesturing for Mabari-Cullen to get in. “If you’re going to cuddle with me tonight, you’d better smell nice,” she said. 

Ordinarily Mabari-Cullen slept at the foot of her bed. Sometimes he chose the floor. When they were at camp, she used his side as her pillow, unless his odor was so distractingly overpowering that she had to sleep across the fire from him. But when she knew she wouldn’t see him for some time, she felt a swell of affection and had to sleep with her arm around him. 

That night, with her face buried against Mabari-Cullen’s neck, Serenity found herself in a dream, crawling through holes in the walls of the Circle tower, led by a squeaking mouse as they avoided Mr. Wiggums. 

  


She scurried across the floor of the apprentices’ quarters and found a portal in the library leading to the third floor. She’d hoped they could climb the stairs even higher, but a templar stood guard at the closed doors. Instead, she followed Mouse as they scaled the curtains to a window near the top of the ceiling. He led her outside where vines clung to the bricks like ropes for her to climb from window to window. The world seemed so small but the tower so vast as she traversed its halls as a mouse. 

She wanted to eavesdrop on the conversations had between the templars in their quarters. When they finally reached the fourth floor, she shifted from a mouse back into herself and looked at Mouse as he did the same. He was familiar, an apprentice she thought she remembered as a friend, but he wore a Senior Enchanter’s robes. She couldn't remember how she knew him, but she didn't try too hard, more interested in the vivid dream she was caught in.

_'We shouldn’t be here,'_ Mouse warned her. _'What do you think will happen if they catch us? Templars like killing mages. If they're not trying to feed you to demons, they're trying to stab you in the back.'_

_'Just be quiet and let me listen,'_ Serenity said. _'You can hide if it makes you feel safer.'_

_'We should make them all Tranquil,'_ one of the templars said. _'They wouldn’t pose any danger then. They could enchant our armor and sell our wares. Imagine how much more money the Chantry could make if we only used them the way they should be used.'_

_'But the healers are useful,'_ another templar argued. _'What if we only teach them healing spells? They won’t fight back if they don’t know how to conjure a proper fireball. What’s the point of teaching them destructive magic if we don’t want them to kill people?'_

_'I saw a mage set himself on fire once,'_ the third templar chuckled. _'Couldn’t get the smell out of my nose for days. He did it on purpose. Good riddance. If only they’d all set themselves on fire. Saves us having to build a pyre.'_

_'Do you see?'_ Mouse asked. _'The templars hate you. They hate all mages. They fear what you’re capable of. They fear spirits and demons that aren’t even there. Demons show more mercy than these sadistic bastards do.'_

_'They’re not all like this,'_ Serenity thought, her inner voice echoing outside of her. _'What about Cullen? Greagoir? Thrask?'_

She hadn’t met Ser Thrask personally, but by the way Hawke spoke of him, she knew he was a good templar, one who still fulfilled his duty while showing compassion to the mages. She wondered if she should have returned to the Gallows to try to find him before she left Kirkwall. 

_'Oh, yes, the good ones. The ones who enforce the rules, who let you think you're choosing to abide by them. But don't dare disagree or you will suffer in body and spirit,'_ Mouse derided her. 

_'Mages cannot be treated as people,'_ Greagoir said, joining the three templars where they stood in a circle. _'We cannot kill them outright or turn them into Tranquil without just cause, but you must stand vigilant. You may be called to end their lives at a moment’s notice because their will is not strong enough to endure. They will give into weakness. That is why we send them into the Fade for their first test. Let the weakest of them fail now so we have fewer mouths to feed and robes to launder.'_

_'The Harrowing,'_ Mouse scoffed. _'What a bunch of hypocrites. Using blood magic to summon and trap demons in the realm of their choosing. They want mages to resist demons, yet they harness the power to summon demons themselves. They think the mages a danger because the spirits see them, yet they make you aware so that you can be seen.'_

_'You're right,'_ Serenity said. _'It's wrong. I always thought the test necessary, but... it leads to an encounter that might never have occurred otherwise.'_

_'Why wait?'_ Cullen asked. _'Demons stalk them in their dreams. They always turn to blood magic, even when they don’t need to. Why risk waiting for the inevitable?'_

_'No,'_ Serenity thought. _'That’s not Cullen. Cullen wouldn’t say that. Cullen wouldn’t be here.'_

_'Are you sure?'_ Mouse asked. _'He wanted to annul the Circle, didn’t he? He wanted to see all mages put down like rabid dogs.'_

_'That was before. Not now.'_

_'But he is right, is he not?'_ Mouse asked. _'We all fail the test in the end. We all give in to the temptations of blood magic. We all give in to the temptations of demons.'_

_'No!'_ Serenity shook her head and changed into a mouse to run back through the hole in the corner beneath the bed. She heard Ser Thrask in the next room and stopped before he could see her scurry across the floor. 

_'I only help the mages because I couldn’t help my daughter,'_ he lamented. _'She was too weak to survive her magic. She became an abomination, just like the rest will.'_

_'This isn’t real,'_ Serenity said, shifting back into her own form. She turned to face Mouse as he followed her. _'Why would you show me this?'_

Mouse shrugged, _'Overcoming your fears will make you stronger. Do you see what you’ve made? This was not my doing. It was yours. I only chose to accompany you to protect you from that which scares you.'_

_'You’re lying,'_ Serenity said, looking down the empty hall where Ser Thrask had stood. _'I wouldn’t think that about him. I hardly know him.'_

_'I do not know him at all,'_ Mouse answered pointedly. _'This dream is a reflection of your own insecurity. Would you like to return to the other room? We can face the fearlings together.'_

_'No,'_ Serenity answered, considering what Mouse told her. _'These aren’t my fears now. Not anymore. Cullen doesn’t think that way. Others might… but not him.'_

_'You give them less to feed on,'_ Mouse said approvingly. _'Wouldn’t you care to forge a sword out of your will? Perhaps you would don the armor of the templar and teach them what it means to have honor?'_

_'That is not my fantasy,'_ Serenity said, glaring. _'You mock me.'_

_'Perhaps you would prefer I leave you with a desire demon to play with,'_ Mouse smiled. _'Cullen still awaits in the other room.'_

_'Or maybe I should encase you in ice and see how many pieces I can shatter you into,'_ Serenity threatened. 

_'You’re no fun,'_ Mouse said. _'Would you still kill me if I look like this? I’m just a helpless mage trapped in the Fade after the templars killed me. You wouldn’t put me through that again, would you? Why won't you try to help me? How could you leave me here, even after I helped you pass your Harrowing?'_

_'Your ruse won't fool me,'_ Serenity said. _'You were my Harrowing. I haven't forgotten that much, Pride.'_

_'I was not your Harrowing, but I did teach you, didn't I? Or have you forgotten already? Such memories are hard to cling to in the Fade. The rage demon was meant for you, and you were meant for me,'_ Mouse said.

 _'The rage demon would not have tried to possess me. You tried to tempt me,'_ Serenity argued.

 _'You speak with so much resentment, but I have only ever been your ally. I warned you. I was honest with you. When have I lied?'_ Mouse asked. _'I told you how to pass your test. You had to kill the demon. You did not kill me.'_

 _'Are you joking?'_ Serenity asked indignantly. _'You always lie. You lie now, taking the form of Mouse, and you try to prey on my compassion. It won't work.'_

_'That is not a lie,'_ Mouse answered. _'I am still Mouse. I never deny who I am when you remember me. I am conditioning you to the Fade. You should be thanking me. Where would you be now if I hadn't helped you?'_

_'Stop testing me,'_ Serenity demanded. 

_'No,'_ Mouse said, crossing his arms. _'Where shall we go next? Now that you’re lucid, we could go anywhere you want. I can help you open a portal. We might get a little lost along the way, but shall we go to Ostagar? It always makes you happy to see Duncan again.'_

_'You… still do that?'_ Serenity asked uneasily. _'You pretend to be Duncan in my dreams?'_

_'It brings you comfort,'_ Mouse answered. _'It is my least favorite dream of yours. Boring. Unimaginative. Tedious. You always go back to it. We should find Sten again in Seheron. That was an adventure. I can take you there and show you the jungles as they are in the Fade, seen through the eyes of the Qunari. There are many visitors there though, the mages from Tevinter. The spirits are drawn to them. It can be distracting. Dangerous.'_

_'Perhaps I should just wake up.'_

_'It would be safer,'_ Mouse said. _'But then you throw away the opportunity to learn more. Don't you wish to see the world through the Fade as I wish to see the world through the realm of mortals?'_

 _'I can do without making any more deals,'_ Serenity said, though Anders came to mind. What if there was a way to catch a glimpse of history somewhere in the world where an exorcism had taken place? Still, she knew what Pride would want in return. He would bargain whatever he could to have her body, and she would not give it to him--not even to save Anders. 

_'Somebody’s coming,'_ Mouse said and shifted into the form of a mouse. As he tried to scurry away, Serenity snatched him up by his tail and set him on her shoulder. He squeaked with disapproval. 

_'What?'_ Serenity asked apprehensively. _'Are you trying to scare me? I thought you wanted to fight off the fearlings, you big oaf.'_

A portal of light opened behind her, causing the air to tingle against her skin. A blonde young man stepped through it and looked around. _'You’re in the Circle?'_ he asked, surprised. _'You know you sleep in the palace in Denerim, don’t you?'_

_'Who are you?'_ Serenity asked, wondering if he was another demon—but what kind of demon would scare away Pride? 

_'I am Feynriel,'_ he answered. _'Do you remember writing me?'_

_'You… you found me,'_ she answered in awe. _'I remember.'_

_'I've been practicing,'_ he said. _'What you asked of me, however... I don’t think I, or even my master, can help you with.'_

_'Why not?'_ she asked, feeling whatever hope she’d held onto sift away like sand through a sieve. 

_'I’ve met Anders in the Fade before,'_ Feynriel answered. _'He and Justice were one. I don’t want to hurt them. Even if I could kill Justice, it would kill Anders too. I’m sorry.'_

_'I don’t want that either,'_ Serenity sighed. _'Do you have any other ideas for how to separate them?'_

_'I do not,'_ Feynriel answered. _'My master would try, but… it would be through trial and error with great risk to them both. Stay away from Tevinter. They would hurt Anders. They might even try to save Justice at the cost of his life. I have no doubt they could do it, but... the cost would be too great.'_

_'Thank you, Feynriel,'_ Serenity answered. _'I will heed your warning.'_

_'You have somebody with you,'_ he said, noticing the mouse perched on her shoulder. _'It is not a dreamer.'_

 _'He's my friend,'_ Serenity said protectively. It occurred to her that Feynriel might be capable enough to kill the demon in the Fade, especially with her assistance. But she was reluctant to betray Mouse, even knowing what he was. 

_'That is not the kind of friend you want to keep,'_ Feynriel warned her. _'It’s time to wake up now.'_

__  
Serenity bolted upright as dawn broke over the horizon. She remembered the dream clearly and hoped not to experience one like it again. It left her unsettled for most of the morning, especially knowing she was going back to the Circle tower where the dream had taken place. She set her mind at ease thinking about Ser Hadley, Ser Bran, Irving, and Finn. It was not the ugly place her fears reflected._ _

__She left most of her things in Denerim. Alistair let her store some of her equipment in a chest in the castle. She thought perhaps some of her gear would raise suspicion. One could sense the power within the threads of a robe or see the glint of blood stains on a pendant, and she did not need anyone asking why she possessed Tevinter items used by blood mages. Instead she wore her Spellminder, a Tevinter robe with innocuous enchantments, and kept a few spare robes in her pack for a change of clothes._ _

__She needed to find some way, some proven method of exorcising an unwanted spirit. There had to be a way to save Anders. It wouldn’t be easy or safe, but no matter how difficult it was, she had to try._ _


	22. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity's stay at the Circle is welcome but not without an exchange of services. Between her studies and dissertation, she writes Cullen.

First Enchanter Irving had a condition for Serenity’s stay at the Circle. He wanted her to write a dissertation on a subject of her choosing and, pending his approval, give a lecture on the material. She would have thought such a task would be fairly straightforward. She had learned so much over the last few years, yet… she didn’t feel like an expert in any given field.

Irving assured her no one knew everything there was to know about anything. If any of her experiences refuted the publications of senior enchanters, he would be especially interested in hearing what she had to say. ‘The Fade is in a constant state of flux,’ he said, quoting First Enchanter Josephus. And therefore, he believed, magic was fluid and ever changing. Their understanding of the arts were limited and conflicting. 

But she still felt inferior to the mages that spent their lives studying magic and the Fade. They had a deeper understanding of the realm of dreams, spirits, and demons. She planned to delve into their research to bridge the gap in her own understanding of how the world worked. 

She had survived her Harrowing. She had faced Sloth, Rage, Desire, and Pride. She could speak about her experiences and advise students on their interactions with spirits of the Fade, but it didn’t feel like enough. She had so many dreams she didn’t remember, so many dreams where she had Pride looming over her. She felt the cold breath of fear at her neck, knowing how vulnerable she was in her sleep. All it would take was one night—one good dream during a heartbreaking week—for Pride to deceive her under the guise of Duncan or Cullen or Irving. Or, worse yet, he could prey on her compassion for Anders. 

She did not want to incite fear, however. The apprentices lived with that fear every day of their lives already. She wanted to inspire confidence or hope, something to break the mold of the Chantry’s teachings. 

She could not very well teach about blood magic, though the thought sprang to mind. Although blood magic was feared for good reason, she had come to respect it as a deeply complex school. If the books were not so hard to find or so dangerous to possess, she would dedicate months to its study. She had no desire to control minds, summon demons, or abuse the power for political gain, but she knew she would have a better understanding of blight magic if she became more proficient with blood magic. 

She had always been told blood magic came from demons, but when she read the scrolls of Banastor and the forbidden tomes from Tevinter, she found an underlying reference to the early magisters. Knowledge of blood magic might be readily available to mages in the Fade from demons bartering power for their freedom, but the demons were not the source of the magic. Blood magic came from the old gods, which birthed the darkspawn. She was certain Avernus already knew as much and hoped he experimented with the Archdemon’s blood, even though they had to be conservative with its use because it was what made the Grey Wardens. But she knew it was all connected, and if she could only learn more about the oldest forms of blood magic, she would learn to sense and control blighted blood. 

She was the Commander of the Grey, yet she still felt she knew so little of her order. She had read some books, but the histories of the blight still lent little insight into the secrets of the Grey Wardens or their inner workings in Weisshaupt. Not that her ‘righteous Grey Wardening’ could be the subject of her dissertation. It did little to better the mages in the Circle, aside from perhaps saving them from boredom. 

With some convincing, she hoped Irving and Hadley would allow her to tell stories of her adventures. Even if they didn’t always correlate to her experience as a mage, she was sure there was something to be learned from each of her companions and every town they visited across Ferelden. 

Given enough time, she would ideally find a cure for Anders. That would be a worthy subject, one she would hope spread across Thedas. Until then, however, she had to take notes and organize her thoughts in between reading. She could only take being hunched over a book in the library for so long before falling asleep or developing a sore neck or realizing she hadn’t actually been paying attention to the characters on the page, even as her eyes scanned over them. She was a much quicker learner when she put theory into practice. For the purpose she was researching, practicing exorcising spirits and curing abominations just wasn’t possible. In Tevinter, maybe. But going there was her last resort. 

* * *

  


Serenity sat down at her desk in the guest room that Duncan once stayed in and penned a letter: 

  
_Knight-Captain Cullen,_

_I am keeping watch in the senior mages’ quarters. I find it is more boring than watching the apprentices. Up here, everyone knows what they are doing, and they go about their business. At least in the apprentice’s quarters, you occasionally witness an apprentice singe off his eyebrows or tick off his mentor. Not to mention the juicy gossip._

_One of the First Enchanter’s former pupils returned to the Circle and will be giving a lecture soon. She was out on a mission for a long time, and he wants her to enlighten the apprentices with what she’s learned. I hope she tells an exciting story. Maybe it will have dragons in it. I’ll be sure to tell you the details if it’s any good after I hear it._

_Knight-Commander Greagoir has retired to Denerim. I hope he’s doing well. Ser Hadley is filling in for him, but I hope they make it official. He serves as a model templar in my eyes. I hope your own Knight-Commander is doing well and good in the Gallows. I know she must be under immense pressure with the death of the Viscount and restoring order to the city with the expulsion of the Qunari._

_I read that book you recommended to me, ‘A Meditation upon the Use of Blades’ by the chevalier, Massache de Jean-mien. I would like to see you tackle a blood mage to the ground in full plate. I doubt most templars would consider doing it, but I’m sure any mage would be surprised at a knight willing to roll around in the mud to best them in combat. He was right—it may not be elegant, but it would be effective. Perhaps you can show me how to properly grapple with a mage someday._

_I will try to read ‘In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar,’ by Brother Genetivi. I have had the honor of meeting him before. He’s an interesting and pious man with a lot of passion for his craft, but I have to admit, reading his journals can be rather daunting. His attention to detail is commendable, but his sense of humor is left by the wayside in lieu of information upon information. He is actually a very funny man, and I had hoped to see that part of his personality come through his writing._

_Have you read Philliam, a Bard!’s ‘A History Not of Heroes: Readings in the Ugly Heart of Change’? He refers to some of Genetivi’s findings and credits him, but he adds so much flair to his writing, I couldn’t put the book down._

_Signed, Ser Renit_

_P.S. This armor is heavy. It’s making my feet sore. Do you have any advice for sore feet?_

  
As she set the parchment to dry, she wondered, _'Brother Genetivi is Cullen’s idea of leisurely fun? I really must arrange for them to meet somehow.'_ Oh, if only Brother Genetivi hadn’t been injured in Haven. When he wrote about the Urn of Sacred Ashes, he could have written about the cultists and their dragon. Did he see the dragon when he went back? Or just the ghosts and riddles? 

She wanted to say more, but she was determined to play the inconspicuous role of a spying templar. Now that she was settled in, she would have to juggle her time between drafting her lecture, tutoring apprentices, her own studies, and helping out with chores. She might be a guest now, but she was once a resident of the Circle. She didn’t want the other mages to think she’d willfully forgotten where she came from or that she considered herself above the menial tasks they were assigned to on a daily basis.

She spent the remainder of the day sitting at her desk, wracking her brain for topics for her lecture. She made a list and started writing for each subject. She wrote until her hand cramped up, then took a break to read until her eyes grew tired, then she walked around the mages’ quarters before returning to her paper. She wrote a longwinded lecture on the different kinds of demons she had encountered, but she knew there were plenty of books in the library detailing demons. The only original aspect of her paper was the anecdotes. 

Over the course of the next several weeks, she would write about different topics. If she couldn’t write a satisfactory dissertation on a single subject, she would rather compile enough essays and anecdotes to fill the length of a book. It might not have been what Irving asked for, but he saw her dedication to her work. 

She wrote about the Fade and her experiences with Valor and Justice. She hinted at Wynne’s experiences with the spirit of Faith that saved her life without incriminating her as a benevolent abomination. She sometimes found herself distracted, asking as many questions in her paper as she answered. She would have to edit and revise, a daunting task that tired her just to consider. Her questions were thought provoking, but they were inappropriate if she couldn’t provide answers to them. 

She continued down her list of topics, all subjects that would be helpful to the mages in the Circle, providing them knowledge that could safeguard them from harm. But she felt as though they had read it all before, perhaps in a more pedantic and less exciting manner. She felt a little bit like Philliam, a Bard!, providing her own take on topics they’d already touched upon, lending her own perspective with colorful stories and the occasional stupid joke. Unlike Philliam, a Bard!, however, she would take criticisms of her work to heart. He probably thrived on the disdain haughty scholars read him with. At least, she was certain, Varric and Leliana would approve of her compilation of stories. It was easier for her to tell a story like she was speaking to a friend than it was to write an organized, argumentative paper with supporting evidence and points that countered any potential arguments. 

Serenity sat in the library with the books ‘Faith, Justice, and the Spiritual Way’, ‘Guarding Your Mind: How to Prevent Possession’, and ‘Spirit Healers Through the Ages’. When a folded up page of notes slipped from the pages of the last book, she didn’t recognize the handwriting, but she recognized the name Ser Pounce-a-lot beneath the doodle of a tiger in the margins as it chased a templar along the edge of the page. She ran her fingers fondly over the faded ink and felt her heart ache at the thought of Anders’ crippling loneliness. He had sat at one of these tables, probably in the corner, studying in a school of magic she had never considered delving into herself. What if she had? What if she had been braver? 

Spirit Healing was a gift, but it wasn’t for the faint of heart. It wasn’t something one could easily undertake without a natural aptitude. But during her apprenticeship, she had allowed the Chantry’s teachings and the whispers of the templars to make her uneasy with the thought of working with spirits, even benevolent ones. They were considered high-risk. 

Would she have met Anders sooner though, had she tried? Would they have been friends? Would he still have made all of those attempts to escape the Circle? 

She knew it was foolish to think about what might have been. For all she knew, she would have tried to escape the Circle with him. She might have been such a terrible Spirit Healer than she would have been considered too dangerous to undergo the Harrowing. She had to believe she was exactly where the Maker meant for her to be. She had learned spells that allowed her to best blood mages, demons, abominations, and darkspawn. Anders and Wynne had been put in her path when she needed them. 

As valuable as Spirit Healers were, she had to accept that she was not one. She could still dedicate herself to its study and practice if she had the time. She had no doubt she could do anything she put her mind to. But she still had value without being a Spirit Healer. Her Cold magic, the secrets shared with her by the Arcane Warrior, and her abilities as a Battle mage all made her a capable and formidable mage. But it was her blood magic that would change the world. 

She hoped she might someday teach others that blood magic wasn’t inherently evil. Blood Sacrifice and Blood Control were not the only spells in the forbidden school. Summoning demons wasn’t necessary. Making a deal wasn’t the only way to learn. Death draws the attention of demons, and the more violent and painful the death, the stronger the spell. But she utilized blood magic without the help of demons, without taking another’s life or impeding on another’s free will. She already powered her spells through her own life force, but she wanted to master the spells that she didn’t find in the Tevinter tomes or the scrolls of Banastor. She wanted to find the healing potential of blood magic. It was there; she just had to unlock it. 

“Serenity?” 

Serenity looked up from ‘Spirit Healers Through the Ages’, surprised to see Finn standing across the table from her. He looked… different. “Finn?” 

“Heyyy,” he grinned. “How have you been? Where have you been? Slay any darkspawn lately?” 

“I’ve been here for a while,” she answered, looking him over. His robes were wrinkled. That was odd. “I thought maybe you were transferred to the Circle in Orlais. That’s where your family is from, isn’t it? I’m so glad you’re still here.” 

“No, not transferred. I doubt they would let me stay in Orlais, even as far from Val Royeaux as Montsimmard. My parents would come knocking. That’s the whole reason I’m here, you know,” he shrugged. “I didn’t miss the Circle as much as I thought I would. After you left, I continued my field studies with Ariane. We found more Dalish artifacts.” 

“You… did?” Serenity noticed the leather belt around his waist with the intricate designs made by a Dalish artisan. “You’re a bonafide adventurer now, aren’t you? Sweet little Finn, who didn’t like stretching outdoors because of dirt and sweat?” 

“Dirt and sweat don’t bother me anymore,” he said proudly. “I’m going to begin writing a paper about everything we found. I even learned a word that wasn’t in that elvhen language dictionary. I’m going to see that it gets revised with the word added. I also need to create a copy for Ariane’s clan.”

“Finn and Ariane sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Serenity teased in a sing-song tone. 

“What? Don’t… don’t be childish,” he stammered. “Anyway, I am hoping I’ll be approved to leave the Circle again.” 

“How long were you away?” 

“A few months,” he answered. “I think maybe Ser Hadley forgot about me. Or maybe he thought you’d conscripted me. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t cause any trouble and I came back of my own accord. I’m hoping with everything I’ve gathered, they’ll see that I’m more valuable outside the Circle and let me leave again. Not too soon though. I still have work I need to finish here before I’m ready to go again.” 

“They might send a templar to keep watch over you,” Serenity said. “I’m glad you took advantage of your time away and made good use of it.” 

She wondered if she had been expected to escort Finn back to the Circle after he helped her on her mission. Whatever the case, Ser Hadley hadn’t seen it worth mentioning. His allowance of Finn’s absence for so long was much more lax than she would have expected from any templar, let alone the interim Knight-Commander. She didn’t think he would be so trusting with just any mage though. Finn was always the ideal mage—content with life in the tower—exactly the kind of mage the templars would recommend for First Enchanter. Or so he used to be. 

“A templar could come in handy,” Finn said thoughtfully. “Maybe then we could brave the Deep Roads again. I would like to explore deeper into Cadash thaig. I’m sure we only scratched the surface of elvhen history down there. As soon as we got those lights of Arlathan, you didn’t waste any time heading for the exit.” 

Serenity chuckled, “You should go back. Just be sure to wear a cowl. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.” 

“Oh, Maker, please don’t fuss over me like a mother hen,” Finn said. “Can you believe my parents sent somebody to track me down? That’s probably why the templars remembered I wasn’t in the Circle.”

“I don’t mean I’m worried about you catching a cold,” Serenity said.

“Oh… oh, right. The blight sickness,” he muttered. “I sometimes forget about that. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Now, while you’re here,” Serenity said, closing her book to set it atop the stack on her table. “I could use your help. You still know the library like the back of your hand, don’t you?” 

“Of course,” he answered. “I hope they have some new books added to the collection. You know how the library is organized, don’t you? There’s even an index to simplify things if you don’t have it memorized.” 

“That’s how I found these,” she answered, gesturing to the books in front of her. “But why skim an index when I can just ask someone who knows exactly what I need?” 

“All right, flattery will get you far,” Finn answered. “What are you trying to find?” 

“How to cure an abomination,” Serenity answered. “Or, uh… something like that.” 

“Now that would be fascinating. No such book exists, but I can help you find some books to get you started,” he said, leading her around the library. He picked up a ladder on the way and set it up by a bookshelf in the Spirit section. He climbed up and pulled a book from the top shelf. 

Within a few minutes, she had her hands full with a half dozen, heavy leather-bound books. He helped her carry them to the study and set them down at a table. “Thank you,” she said. “Which one should I start with?”

“Start with ‘Tranquility and the Role of the Fade in Human Culture’. Spirit Healers take their power directly from the Fade, so it would be wise to start there.”

She had read excerpts from the book in the past, but she would read it cover to cover this time. She looked over the other books he had handed her: ‘The Maker's First Children’, ‘The Four Schools: A Treatise’, ‘Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons’, ‘Fade and Spirits Mysterious,’ and ‘A Dissertation on the Fade as a Physical Manifestation’. 

Reading through all of them was going to take a lot of time and patience, but she would have to begin with Brother Genetivi’s work, ‘Fade and Spirits Mysterious.’ He wasn’t a senior enchanter, so she wasn’t sure what kind of light he could shed on the subject, but she knew his research was thorough. She could also mention his book in her next letter to Cullen. 

“Do you think the templars would let Ariane visit me?” Finn asked as he helped her carry the pile of books to her room. He didn’t mention that she was borrowing far more than any mage was allowed at one time. He didn’t really care about that anymore. 

“I think they would,” Serenity answered. “Just speak with Ser Hadley and explain her part in your research.” 

“I like Ser Hadley,” Finn said, setting the books down at her desk. “Looks like you got mail.” 

Serenity felt her heart skip a beat as she thought about how many weeks had passed since she sent her letter out to Cullen. More than weeks. Months had passed, enough for the change in season. She thought his letter had better be more than two sentences for him to take so long to write her back—or she would send him a letter every week to remind him she awaited his reply. 

“I’ll see you later,” Finn said, seeing himself out. 

Serenity broke the seal on the rolled letter and sat cross legged on her bed as she read it, pleased to see how long it was. 

  
_Ser Renit,_

_I am glad you are adjusting to your new station upstairs. I am sure this mage is very skilled and talented to earn such respect from the First Enchanter. Attend the lecture if you can. While you are not a mage yourself, it could not hurt to learn more about them and hear what she has to say. I would like to know what she chose to speak on, whether dragons are involved or not. Perhaps you can ask her for an ice salve to help with your sore feet._

_If you've heard any wild rumors about a leering templar who made apprentices uncomfortable, they are likely about me, but I assure you they’re only partly true and probably exaggerated. I did not break that mage’s nose nor did I threaten to castrate the First Enchanter._

_I meant to write you sooner. I am sorry it’s taken me so long to send you this letter. I wanted to be sure I had time to read every book on the list you provided me last time we spoke, in addition to those you mentioned in your last letter. I now have a better understanding of the kind of literature you like to read._

_I read ‘Adventures of the Black Fox’ and found the Orlesian folk hero in stark contrast to most of the heroes I read about. I couldn’t help thinking he sounded more like someone who would fit in with the Grey Wardens than one a templar would look up to. You might like to read ‘Tales and Legends of the Free Marches’ by Lord Rodney Pierce. You will find more Free Marchers like your Black Fox than you would Calenhad the Great._

_I am rather appalled that you would compare Philliam’s work to Brother Genetivi’s and suggest he made it better. He only scratches the surface of Brother Genetivi’s work, ignoring the breadth of insight he provides on his findings in favor of frills. I urge you to give Brother Genetivi’s work another try. Perhaps, if you are interested enough in the subject, ‘Kirkwall: The City in Chains,’ if only for the section he writes on the history of the Gallows._

_I have also taken an interest in the history of the dwarves. I find their architecture fascinating, especially after hearing about how well Vigil’s Keep withstood the darkspawn siege after the structures were reinforced. The Avvar were tremendously intelligent with the original construction, but dwarves would know structural integrity better than anyone. They have to survive the weight of the world over their heads and the constant assault of darkspawn from below. ‘Stone Halls of the Dwarves’ may not strike your fancy, but it gave a thorough overview of Orzammar, the Stone, and the Paragons. I have never seen Orzammar myself, but Brother Genetivi paints a vivid picture with his words._

_In regards to the current state of Kirkwall, the Knight-Commander is working hard to restore order to the city while maintaining her hold on the Gallows. The Mage Underground is still trying to find ways to help the mages, but most of their hidden entrances have been discovered and guarded. The First Enchanter, after taking part in defending the city, is asking for more freedoms, but the Knight-Commander is reluctant to meet any of his requests. I know some might have expected they would have formed some trust or respect after that battle, but it seems nothing has changed between them._

_I am sorry to hear about Knight-Commander Greagoir. If you should speak with him, I ask that you thank him for me. He is one of the most patient people I know, second only to one other. Ser Hadley, if he is promoted, has big shoes to fill. Continue to perform your duty and remain vigilant, even if your feet are sore._

_Signed,_

_Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford_

 _P.S. I was surprised, to say the least, by your request in regards to Massache de Jean-mien’s techniques for subduing mages. I suppose should the opportunity ever arise for me to teach you, we could practice._

  
Serenity could feel him blushing through the parchment and smiled, pretty sure she had accomplished what she set out to do. She could hear his voice and see his face as she read the post script, certain he would have avoided meeting her eyes as he played along with her little proposition.

She would have liked to have been able to tell him what she was doing in the Circle, but even if she wrote about her research from the perspective of a nosy templar, it would raise alarm should another read it. She believed searching for a cure to possession was a noble cause, but it was also the kind of magic that one would expect to find in Tevinter, not in Ferelden.


	23. The Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity returns to Soldier's Peak to speak with Avernus about Anders, but he sends her on her way to search for one of the Architect's Disciples. She finds the Messenger.

Serenity hoped after reading every book Finn threw at her, she might find some underlying message and come to an epiphany that would save Anders. After reading ‘Tranquility and the Role of the Fade in Human Culture’, she wondered if the brand would kill Justice. He was probably immune to the rite, seeing as how he had Fade-touched Karl and temporarily restored his humanity. Worse yet, the rite could kill Anders and Justice would persist. But even if the brand did succeed in separating Anders from Justice without killing him, she would then have to find a way to reverse Tranquility. She thought that was even less likely than finding a cure for possession. At least the run-of-the-mill abomination already had a way to be saved. Anders, on the other hand, had a unique set of circumstances that wasn’t referenced in any published texts.

Spirits, rarely pulled across the veil against their will, were turned into demons according to the texts she read. Justice, she was certain, had maintained his spirithood when he came to the physical realm. What he was after he joined with Anders, she couldn’t say for sure. But his idea of justice did seem to be skewered and corrupted by pain and a desire for revenge. 

Justice was supposed to be impartial. Justice, as she knew him, judged the individual, not the whole. He had spoken with Velanna about the injustices of the humans and the injustice of her vengeance on those she blamed without involvement. But now, under the influence of Anders, Justice saw all templars painted with the same brush. What had Justice become? 

Serenity wrote Fiona, the First Enchanter at Montsimmard, in hopes she could recommend books, perhaps even from other cultures or countries that might have had some ancient rituals or past experiences with cases like Anders’. She didn’t receive a reply back before a missive from Avernus reached her at Kinloch Hold. She would have expected to be called by Nathanial, not Avernus. His short letter only told her to meet with him, not whether he had discovered the cure or the secrets of Blight magic. 

_Cryptic old man,_ she thought. She would have to return to Denerim to retrieve her things and to take Mabari-Cullen with her. She had the feeling Avernus was not simply going to hand her another potion. He probably wanted her to retrieve something from the Deep Roads. Blood from a broodmother or something equally as disgusting and hard to find. 

Serenity gathered her research and the pages she had compiled for the dissertation Irving requested. It wasn’t finished, but she would give her lecture and hand over what she’d written, either for him to hold onto until she could complete it or for him to publish as it was. Ser Hadley was present as she went over the outline of her lecture with the First Enchanter so they could approve each talking point together. She felt it left much to be desired, but if either of them were displeased with what she had, they didn’t show it. 

She spoke about spirits in the Fade, the spirits that crossed the veil, and the demons that sought to. She spoke about combinations of spells and specializations, warned about the long-term effects and diminishing returns of lyrium, and suggested the ways in which different schools of magic could serve a purpose as useful as Creation did. She talked about her companions and their different cultural perspectives on magic as well as the many mages and templars she met outside the Circle, both good and bad. She did not speak of the Gallows, however. She did not mention Meredith, Cullen, Alrik, Anders, or Karl. 

After packing her bag, Serenity sat down to pen a letter to Cullen: 

  
_Knight-Captain Cullen,_

_I wish I could see how All Soul’s Day is celebrated in the Free Marches. I have never been in a big city during the holiday and have only ever seen the quiet remembrances of the dead in the Circle. Do they parade down the streets at night in Kirkwall? I’ve heard how dangerous the streets can be, but do the thugs make an exception to honor the dead? By the time you receive this letter, it would have already passed. I will spend tonight in the chapel, remembering those that served the Maker bravely until my candles burn down._

_The First Enchanter’s pupil gave her lecture yesterday. She barely made any mention of dragons, but she had some lessons to share with the apprentices without outright warning them what the Harrowing entails. She was able to speak on demons and blood mages in a way she wished others had spoken to her. Maybe it was due to the coming of All Soul’s Day, but she felt compelled to mention Ser Otto, a templar she met in Denerim years ago. He made quite an impression on her. I think it surprised a lot of people that she spoke about him so fondly. I intend to honor his memory with a candlelight vigil._

_I read the books you recommended. I mean no disrespect for Brother Genetivi’s work. In fact, I read his ‘Fade and Spirits Mysterious’ all the way through. I also read ‘Veilfire: A Beginner's Primer with Numerous Teachings, Exercises, and Applications,’ by Magister Pendictus. Purely out of curiosity to better understand how mages work._

_As far as books on the Free Marches, however, I did rather like Philliam, a Bard!’s ‘Rebels of the Marches: Allegory in Rebellion.’ It might cut through some of Genetivi's pedantic explanations, but he provides his own poetic insight into the material. He writes a sort of comparative literature with critical analysis of the Chant of Light while including colorful descriptions of the people behind their cause. They are both talented writers for different reasons. I would never suggest one is better than the other, except that one is better at holding my attention. (By the way, you must include ‘a Bard!’ complete with exclamation point when you refer to Philliam. You are not on such casual terms that you can simply refer to him as Philliam, are you? That would be like calling the Divine by her name. I can practically hear you saying it’s hardly the same thing, but it was the first example to come to mind.)_

_If you are interested in dwarven literature and not just literature about the dwarves, I highly suggest you pick up a copy of ‘In Praise of the Humble Nug’ by Bragan Tolban, honored chef to House Aeducan. You may also like ‘Tales from Beneath the Earth,’ of which, Brother Genetivi is a contributing author._

_I hope the situation in Kirkwall has improved. The Knight-Commander there was already under a tremendous amount of stress. Has a new viscount been appointed yet? Have tensions with the mages eased at all? I pray you are well and safe._

_Signed,_

_Ser Renit_

_P.S. I am taking leave soon to visit my grandfather in Amaranthine. He was a brave Soldier at his Peak, but he might be near his end. You can reach me there._

* * *

  
At Soldier’s Peak, Serenity met with Avernus, hoping he had good news for her. 

“You promised me a Disciple,” Avernus said, fixing her with a disapproving glare. “You sent the ghoul’s blood, but I’ve been waiting for months. I am going to die of old age before finding this cure if you do not do your part.” 

“I had another pressing matter to attend to,” Serenity said. “I’m trying to cure an abomination, but the demon is not in the Fade. He inhabits the human’s body.” 

“A fool’s notion,” Avernus said dismissively. “If you cannot kill the demon in the Fade, you must kill it in the body.” 

“I will not kill my friend,” she said. “I want to separate them. How can I drive the demon out?” 

“That is not something I care to ponder,” Avernus said. “The Disciple. Bring one to me.” 

“But you’ve dealt with demons,” Serenity said. “I’ve spent months in the Circle trying to find something, anything. I’ve found books by hedge mages detailing rituals the Circle would disapprove of, but the transfer of the spirit into another body would create another abomination. Then, there is the matter of the demon being unwilling to abandon his host in exchange for another.” 

“Why are you still speaking of this? It’s irrelevant to our mission,” Avernus said, waving his hand at her to send her away. “Ponder your conundrum elsewhere. I can summon demons, I can sunder the veil, and I can close the tears. I cannot pull apart an amalgamation of spirits entangled together in a single vessel. Perhaps with years of research and experimentation, you could.” 

“I doubt I have that kind of time,” Serenity said quietly. 

“Then, cut your losses,” he said. “Bring me my Disciple. It is too late for the abomination. It is not too late for the Grey Wardens.” 

“Don’t… don’t say that,” she muttered. “I can’t just give up on him.” 

Avernus looked up from his work table and read the sorrow on her face. “The demon would have to consent to leaving,” he said. “With enough time, the demon will overpower the mortal’s spirit, consuming it completely until there is nothing left. He won’t resemble a person anymore. If your friend still lives, he must be powerful to have denied the demon’s growth inside him for so long. It might interest me to experiment on him, but it would distract me from something more important.” 

Serenity fell into the nearby chair, feeling completely deflated. She couldn’t give up, not even at Avernus’ advisement. Anders deserved better. 

“If you do somehow find a way to pull them apart,” Avernus continued, “it would be like trying to separate two colors of stained glass used to depict a single picture. You would have to break it apart, take each shard out piece by piece. Remnants of the human would be lost with the spirit. Echoes of the spirit would scar the human’s soul. When you try to put it back together again, pieces would be missing, leaving jagged holes.” 

Serenity tried to still her shaking and quell the tightening in her chest and the strain behind her eyes. Was it really a hopeless endeavor? Would she only ruin what was left of Anders if she tried to help him? 

“If you’re going to cry, don’t do it here,” Avernus said, shooing her away again. “You’re affecting the delicate balance of energy in the room. Dedicate yourself to your mission. It will make you feel better to find the Disciple. You will still save somebody, namely yourself.” 

Serenity stood up dejectedly and left the room, finding comfort in Mabari-Cullen’s sloppy kisses. She was grateful to have stopped by Denerim to retrieve him, though she left most of her belongings in the palace. It gave her a reason to return after finishing the task Avernus set her to. Seeing Alistair again would be a welcome diversion. She felt so helpless at the moment, having spent months at the Circle trying to piece together a solution only to come out empty-handed. 

“Hello, Warden!” Levi Dryden greeted her outside and handed her a parchment with dates and locations. “That crotchety old genius has me keeping my ear to the ground. Lots of traders come by here with news of the blighted sickness. At first, I thought it was just leftover disease from the blight, but it seems new cases crop up every now and again. Avernus told me to map it out for you. That’s a list I’ve kept, but I’ve put pins in a map too.” 

“He thinks it’s the Disciple?” Serenity asked. “What would give him that idea?” 

“Word is a cloaked traveler has been seen helping out displaced folk and travelers,” Levi answered. “I never would have connected the two, but he thinks it’s one of those intelligent darkspawn that decided to stay on the surface.” 

“That’s entirely possible,” Serenity said and followed him to the map he laid out. “It was one of my concerns about the Architect’s plan—that the darkspawn, once they gain their autonomy, would not want to be confined to the Deep Roads.” 

“Who would?” Levi asked. “Do you think you can find him?” 

“If I come close, I’ll be able to sense him,” Serenity said, checking the list against the pins on the map. “He likes to patrol the main roads and farmland, it looks like.” 

“Or, at least, those are the instances of him being mentioned by traders,” Levi said. “If he’s off in the middle of nowhere the rest of the time, the merchants wouldn’t hear about it.” 

“He was last seen near Highever,” she said. “I’ll go there first.” 

“Maker smile on you, Warden,” Levi said. “If you need anything, help yourself to my wares behind the counter.” 

Serenity and Mabari-Cullen left the next morning. Highever wasn’t far from Soldier’s Peak, but unfortunately, the Disciple left no trace behind, not even faint enough for a mabari to pick up on. They spent months chasing rumors across Ferelden, always two steps behind the Disciple. At least they knew he remained within Ferelden’s borders. His movements were unpredictable, not following any particular pattern. But as the holiday Saturnalia neared, Serenity knew bandit attacks would increase along the Imperial Highway as merchants and families traveled between cities to sell wares and visit their loved ones. If the Disciple’s intention was to thwart off bandits, that would be the best place for him to do it. 

She had hoped to make it back to Vigil’s Keep in time to celebrate Saturnalia with the Wardens. She hadn’t paid much mind to the calendar since she left the Circle. As with every holiday in the Circle, it was celebrated but not to the extent it was with outsiders in the big cities. Gifts were exchanged between friends, but they were small and handmade rather than bought, like a knotted bracelet or a heartfelt letter. She hadn’t enough time to make gifts for all of her friends, and she feared anything she made by hand would seem paltry compared to the things she could find in the shops or ruins, so she considered it might be better that she miss the holiday until she was better prepared for it. 

It wasn’t long before Serenity sensed the presence of darkspawn. Faint but distinct like a distant ringing in one’s ears, but it was more a soft hum, and she felt it in her blood. She had stumbled upon a bandits’ camp in the woods and steered clear of it before the men could detect her presence. She crossed the main road and waited behind the line of trees with Mabari-Cullen. 

It was only a matter of time, she thought. She took a needle and thread from her pack as she set the stuffed nug she’d sewn together for Oghren’s daughter in her lap and went to attaching two black beads for eyes to it. A child, she thought, would still be happy with a small handmade gift from auntie. 

She heard the creaking wheels of a wagon approaching before it came over the hill and placed the stuffed nug back in her bag as she peered through the trees. She could feel the darkspawn coming closer, though she couldn’t pinpoint from which direction, and wondered if he lay hidden in the back of the cart. She watched as the band of thieves emerged from the woods across the road and surrounded the wagon. An imposing cloaked figure climbed up the hill into view from the direction the wagon had come and stopped as he stood upright. She recognized his unmistakable stature and the way he rolled his shoulders before he drew his sword and charged. He moved like a Hurlock. 

She remained a hidden spectator as the Hurlock closed in on the wagon. He wielded his sword with brute force, beheading the nearest thief with a single swing. The others hesitated long enough for the Hurlock to pick up the head of their companion and throw it at them while pulling down the scarf that covered his face. It was enough to send them running in the opposite direction. 

He replaced the scarf over his head before the family in the wagon stopped cowering and looked at him. He knelt down to pick up the box a thief had dropped and offered it to them with his head bowed like one might make an offering to the Divine. 

“Thank you, kind stranger,” the woman said, holding her child close. 

“Please, it’s not much, but take this as thanks,” the husband said, offering the Hurlock a wheel of cheese. 

  


“Stay,” Serenity said, patting Mabari-Cullen on top of his head. As the wagon departed, she left the cover of trees and slowly approached him. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Don't want trouble. I will leave now,” the Hurlock said, cradling the cheese wheel as he turned to leave. 

“Wait. I mean you no harm. I only want to talk,” Serenity said, following him until he stopped to face her. She recognized his voice and the hunch of his shoulders, but to say she could tell his face apart from another would have been a lie. “Are you the same Disciple that fought beside me in the City of Amaranthine? The Architect's Messenger?” 

“Yes,” he answered. “Yes, I remember. You let me go free. The Architect released me from his service before you came to take his life.” 

“I’m… sorry,” Serenity said. She didn’t know all of what she was going to say to him when she found him, but that was the one thing she knew she had to. “I know he trusted me. You trusted me. I don’t know if you’ll understand or accept my reasoning, but I couldn’t allow the Architect to continue. I wish I could have granted your kind freedom without it resulting in the death of so many innocents, but every way I looked at it, people would die as a result of free-thinking darkspawn en masse. So many already have because of the civil war with the Mother.” 

“The Darkspawn, we are violent,” he said, nodding. “We kill as soon as we are born, as soon as we walk. We smash heads with rocks, use broken bones to cut. Without the song, we are different, unpredictable, scary for Wardens. I understand.” 

“You seem kind,” Serenity said. “Is that why you didn’t go back underground with the others?” 

“Me, I want to help,” he answered, clutching his cheese wheel tighter. “Must make things right. I remember everything before I was freed from the song. That is not me. There was no me then. What I do now is what I choose. That is what the Architect taught me.” 

“I have no right to ask this of you, but will you come with me?” Serenity asked. “I am looking for a cure to the Calling. I don’t want to hear the song either. If I can learn how to reverse the effects of the taint, I can save the Wardens and anyone else infected with the disease. I will protect you and keep your presence secret from the other Wardens.” 

“What... what do you want with me?” he asked nervously. “What can I do to silence the song? I am not the Architect. I know not what he did.” 

“We’re conducting experiments similar to what the Architect did,” Serenity answered. “We extract a small amount of blood and study it. I have been giving my blood too. Avernus has a better understanding of the kind of blood magic the Architect was capable of, but I hope to master it myself.” 

“If it will help… I will go with the Warden-Commander,” he agreed. 

Serenity whistled to call Mabari-Cullen out to join them and asked, “What should I call you? You are no longer the Messenger.” 

“The first person I helped, he called me Savior,” he answered. “I would like to be called Savior again.” 

“I’m glad to have you with me, Savior. It’s a few days’ walk to Soldier’s Peak. You can ask me anything, and I will answer honestly and to the best of my knowledge.” 

“Why do you not hate me?” he asked, nervously eyeing the giant war hound as it walked beside her. “Even if I try to do good. I would not blame you for hating all darkspawn.” 

“You are not ‘all darkspawn.’ You aren't a thrall of an Archdemon or a violent murderer. You try to help people,” she said. “I have no reason to hate you. You have more reason to hate me.” 

  


Over the next four days, travelling east on the Imperial Highway to Soldier’s Peak, Serenity learned more about the darkspawn from Savior than anyone in the Order had gleaned from their time in the Deep Roads. His description of the ruling generals underground were especially terrifying, not only to surfacers but to subordinate darkspawn with enough mind to feel fear. 

The hive mind felt no fear, but thousands of lesser darkspawn died at the hands of the Alphas while they searched for the old gods. When they had no call to go above ground, the darkspawn killed their own kind, just as they did when they took their first steps. The Alphas, Serenity learned, were also the darkspawn that bred the ghouls into Broodmothers. 

The way of living Savior recounted for her only reassured her that she made the right choice in stopping the Architect. Even though there might be others like Savior, with the capacity to be good, the darkspawn were a virulent disease. The Architect knew it too. She learned about his past endeavors and how his naïve idea of a utopia would have benefitted only the darkspawn as the surface became blighted with the taint—only those immune to the corruption would have survived, and they would have been vastly outnumbered. She knew, though the Architect might not have intended it, the darkspawn would have eradicated every other living thing in Thedas. 

She would do all she could for Savior, but she could do nothing to help the others. The cost for their freedom would be too great, even if the whole world were immune to the taint. Savior, upon learning he spread sickness wherever he went, understood just as well. 

She knew Savior had experienced a life far more turbulent, bloody, and ugly than she could ever fathom, but there was something about him and the way he spoke that reminded her of a child. It wasn’t a question of his intelligence or mental capacity. She knew he was smart, maybe even smarter than he realized. But there was something pure about him that his nature could not corrupt. It made her wonder if he had a soul. Would his spirit cross the Fade when he perished? She hoped he would. 

When they reached Soldier’s Peak, Serenity led Savior through the courtyard and upstairs to meet Avernus. She intended to stay for a few weeks to ensure Savior’s safety while she awaited someone to relieve her. She would send a letter to Vigil’s Keep. She had, up until now, trusted Avernus to perform his experiments ethically. But she wasn’t sure she trusted him to treat a darkspawn with the same respect he would a Grey Warden. 

Avernus looked up from his table of notes, vials of blood, and array of potions as they walked in. “Ah, good. The Disciple,” he said, walking around the table to meet him. “You’re an ugly one, aren’t you?” 

“Be nice,” Serenity chastised him. 

“Sit,” Avernus said, gesturing toward the chair as he returned to his table for a leather roll of metal instruments. 

Serenity could tell by the hunch of his shoulders that Savior was starting to feel nervous. She put a hand on his shoulder when he sat down to try to reassure him he was safe there. “Avernus, you’ll treat Savior with the same courtesy you treat me,” she said. “That is a condition to his voluntary participation in your experiments.” 

“Voluntary?” Avernus asked, surprised. “I did notice he arrived breathing. I thought you might bring him back dead. This is better. Much better. Live blood is easier to manipulate than dead blood. Especially if you don’t kill them right.” 

“The Scientist, he intends to kill me? For the blood magic?” Savior asked, alarmed. 

“No,” Serenity said quickly. “No one is going to kill you or harm you. I promise.” 

“Did you call him Savior? How odd. But fitting if he serves his purpose well. He might save not only the Grey Wardens but all of mankind with his blood. Ironic,” Avernus said and reached out to touch the Hurlock’s face. He tilted his head back as he pulled up his eyelid to inspect his murky dilated pupils. “My, how interesting. Your eyes are not like a human’s. You must be blinded by the sunlight. You see better at night, do you not?” 

Savior stiffened uncomfortably but didn’t push his hand away or shrink in his chair. “The darkspawn, we are born in the darkest deep. In the light, there are only shadows.” 

“I would like to measure your pain tolerance,” Avernus said. “You darkspawn are remarkably resilient to physical trauma, aren’t you? I’ve seen your kind keep running, even after having an arm cut off. Less resistant to magic, however.” 

“Stop it,” Serenity said firmly, pushing Avernus’ hand away from Savior as she stepped between them. “You’re scaring him. You agreed to conduct your experiments ethically. If you can’t abide by my conditions, I’m leaving and taking him with me.” 

Avernus scoffed indignantly, “I was only curious. It may be necessary when it comes time to harness the power of blood magic, however. You know this, don’t you? You may not need to sacrifice, but pain gives the blood spell potency.” 

“We don’t need to do that with blight magic,” Serenity said. “You said it has nothing to do with demons or blood sacrifice.” 

“But the taint grows with pain,” Avernus said. “Why do you think I tortured the Wardens I experimented on? Because it changed them. I was able to accelerate their transition into ghouls. I was able to isolate the taint in their blood and separate it to put it in that potion you drank.” 

“The Architect,” Savior said, “he did the same. He freed us from the song with the Warden’s blood.” 

“Don’t you see?” Avernus asked. “We’re so close. This Disciple will help. He was cured. He has the cure in his blood. I only need to find it and learn how to manipulate it. Give me time.” 

“If anyone finds out about him, they might try to take him away,” Serenity said apprehensively. She knew how important Savior was to their mission and she believed Avernus was on the verge of a breakthrough. She doubted the First Warden in Weisshaupt would understand or approve of their partnership with a talking darkspawn. If anything, they might want to interrogate him or perform other experiments of their own. She didn’t know for sure, and she didn’t want to find out. 

“And what would you have me do if the Wardens from Weisshaupt or Orlais come knocking?” Avernus asked wryly. 

“Protect him at all costs,” Serenity said, looking at Savior. She might be seen as stark raving mad, like the lunatic she was working with, but Savior was good. She didn’t think people would understand. 

“At all costs?” Avernus repeated. 

“You heard me,” Serenity answered, meeting his eyes. 

“Finally, you prioritize logos over pathos. He is too important to our work for me not to protect him,” Avernus said approvingly. “How does it feel to finally consider the greater good? Anyone who tries to intervene is trying to prevent us from finding the cure.” 

She hoped it would not come to violence against their order, but she couldn’t help thinking Avernus was right. They needed to close off Soldier’s Peak to travelers and limit trade to avoid any potential for rumors to circulate about Savior. She would have to give him strict guidelines on where he could go within Soldier’s Peak, to avoid contamination and being seen. If the Wardens found out about him and came to take him away or cause him harm, they were interfering with her mission. 

“Don’t worry,” Avernus assured her. “We’ll burn the bodies.” 

“The Wardens, they will come?” Savior asked. 

“No,” Serenity said quickly. “Avernus just likes to plan for the worst. With far too much enthusiasm. Nobody knows you’re here.” 

“Don’t ever say I am not optimistic,” Avernus said, taking a syringe from his collection of tools. “If they do come, I will have my life extended and more than enough agony-ridden Warden blood to run tests for months.” 

“Don’t sound so hopeful, old man,” Serenity said, crossing her arms. “My condition not to torture your subjects still stands.” 

“Stubborn girl. My only hope is to see my life’s work completed,” Avernus said as he pushed the sleeve up over Savior’s arm to withdraw blood. “You smell as bad as you look, Hurlock.” 

“It is the rot,” Savior said. “I cannot help it.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling the plunger. As he watched the black blood fill the vial, he thought aloud, “I wonder what would happen if I reversed the taint in your blood.” 

“Don’t,” Serenity started. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t even think about manipulating his blood, not while it’s still inside his body,” Serenity said. “That could kill him.” 

“I will not kill our helpful friend here. I was just curious,” Avernus said dismissively. “I will try it on a different darkspawn when I learn how. Not this one. Maybe it will revert back into a child. Whatever a darkspawn child looks like. Or maybe it will just cause it to hemorrhage and die. Only one way to find out.” 

Serenity sighed. She knew Avernus was only talking so much because he was excited. But she didn’t think Savior would be comfortable in his presence without her there. As soon as he withdrew the needle, Serenity tugged Savior’s sleeve down and held his arm to suggest he stand. 

“We’re settling in,” Serenity said assertively. 

“Only one vial?” Avernus asked disappointedly. 

“For today,” she answered. “Come, Savior. I’ll show you to your room.” 

“See what a hot bath does for him,” Avernus suggested. “If his skin sloughs off, I want to know about it.” 

“By the Maker,” Serenity muttered and looked up at Savior. “That’s not… what would happen in hot water, is it?” 

“No,” Savior answered. “Do not worry about me, Warden-Commander.” 

“I am sorry about Avernus,” she said. “I know I warned you he is… the way he is. But it still jars me, and I have known him for years.” 

“The Scientist, he is not like the Architect in presence. But he is like him in practice,” Savior said. “I will help him.” 

“Thank you.” 

Serenity took Savior to his room before heading downstairs to the scullery to gather food. As she ladled a generous helping of stew into a wooden bowl for him, she remembered what he told her about the cannibalism between the darkspawn. It made her stomach turn to think about, and suddenly, her appetite was gone. 

“Um… was that… a darkspawn you brought with you?” Levi asked nervously as he fumbled with a rolled letter in his hands. 

“It is,” Serenity answered. “His name is Savior. We’re closing Soldier’s Peak to anyone you aren’t directly doing business with. No one is to set foot on the second floor of the Keep.” 

“Won’t it spread disease?” Levi asked. 

“He knows to keep his distance from anyone who isn’t a Grey Warden,” she answered. “He has his own room and his own eating utensils. There won’t be anything shared between you. A Grey Warden will bring him his meals and hot water. I don’t think you need to worry about catching the sickness. I understand, however, if you would prefer to leave.” 

“My history is here. I’ve found my place here. It would be hard to just up and leave,” Levi sighed. 

“If anyone should come to take him away or kill him, they will die,” Serenity warned him. “We haven’t seen any unannounced visits from the Wardens in Weisshaupt, have we?” 

“No,” Levi answered. “He will be safe here, but… are you sure _we_ will be?” 

“He has been helping people,” Serenity reminded him. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Not on purpose, anyway,” Levi muttered and looked down at the letter in his hands. “Oh, right. This came for you while you were away.” 

Serenity took the letter and recognized the handwriting on it and the wax seal. “Thank you, Levi.” She delivered the bowl of stew to Savior’s room upstairs before returning to her own to read the letter in private: 

  
_Ser Renit,_

_I have not been afforded much time for reading since the last letter I sent you, but I must warn you that the book on Veilfire is considered anathema. It is banned outside of Tevinter. I won't ask how you came by it, but I suggest disposing of it. You may not get in trouble, but should it fall into the hands of a mage, that mage would be punished for its possession. I do hope reading it helped serve whatever purpose you had for keeping it._

_All Soul's Day feels heavier now than it ever has before. I know we are meant to honor the dead and release our grief so we don't hold back the spirits as they cross the Fade, but I could not light a candle this year. If I am honest, I haven't been able to light a candle since the blight. I am grateful that mage spoke so highly of Ser Otto. Respect for each other is sorely needed in these trying times._

_I fear the situation in Kirkwall is dire. More mages are turning to blood magic. The Knight-Commander believes the mages are too weak to control their urges, resulting in an increase of abominations over the last several months. They haven't been given the opportunity to organize though, confined to their cells as they are. I have counted more suicides in the last month than I ever saw in a year at the Circle in Ferelden._

_I wish I could say more._

_Signed,_

_Cullen_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Deadly Circus Fire - In Darkness We Trust


	24. Greagoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having Jowan take her place at Soldier's Peak, Serenity returns to Denerim to retrieve her belongings from the palace, and has an earnest conversation with Greagoir.

“Why me?” Jowan sighed.

Serenity embraced him and smiled, “Because there are very few people I trust as much as I do you. Also, you know blood magic.”

“I’ve sworn off blood magic,” Jowan said. “I meant it when I said I would never go near those spells again. All blood magic has done is ruin my life.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Serenity promised. “But you have the foundation. Avernus might want to speak with you about his findings. You’ll understand him.” 

Jowan sighed again, “That old man scares me. He tortured Wardens! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I give off the vibe that I’m very torturable. Not even just to templars. Oghren loves to torture me too.” 

“He likes to play with you,” Serenity chuckled. “Oghren doesn’t intentionally torture anybody.” 

“Oh, no, I’m pretty sure he does it on purpose,” Jowan said. “He’ll stop and stand right beside me, assault me with ‘silent but violent’ flatulence, and watch from a distance as I dry heave.” 

Serenity laughed, “You must be exaggerating. Or did you do something for him to want to take revenge?” 

“I… may have knocked over a keg of ale,” Jowan said. “But it was an accident! He can’t hold that against me.” 

Serenity cringed, “Oh, he can, and he will. Dwarves take their grudges very seriously.” 

Jowan groaned, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here.” 

“It’s time for you to meet Savior,” she said. “I warn you he smells worse than Oghren, but he can’t help it. You might be able to cover it up with a powder of some kind, but I’m still only a beginner herbalist. Something with elfroot, maybe?”

“What? Worse?” Jowan covered his face with his hands, wondering what he did to deserve to have his nose punished so severely. He would have to wear a mask or a clothespin around his nostrils. “I guess I have plenty of time to look into a deodorant strong enough for a darkspawn. Once I discover it, I’m selling it to Orlais and living off my riches for the rest of my life.” 

“Fair enough,” Serenity said and smiled. “I made a moisturizing salve for his face. He was born to the humidity of the Deep Roads. Being topside makes his skin crack and bleed.”

“Aren’t darkspawn kind of like walking corpses?” he asked. “They look more dead than alive.” 

“Not at all,” she answered. “The only comparison I might make to a corpse is that he doesn’t have a nose. Anyway, I left the recipe with him. He might be able to make it himself if you bring him the ingredients, but I thought you might be able to help him. Just dab it on the red patches.”

“You’re joking,” Jowan said and chuckled nervously. “Aren’t you? You don’t really mean for me to touch him, do you?” 

“He won’t bite,” she said. “It’s been a part of our nightly ritual. I bring him dinner and apply the salve. The only physical contact he ever felt before was violent. You know the value of being touched.” 

Jowan sighed, recalling the limited contact between mages in the Circle, and then how lonely he had been after he fled. “Fine. I’ll be a proper nanny, I guess.” 

“I’ve missed you, Jowan,” Serenity smiled. 

“I’ve missed you more,” Jowan said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I never thought I’d be babysitting a darkspawn. He isn’t as temperamental as Avernus, is he?” 

“He’s amenable,” Serenity assured him. “I’ll try to come back and see you soon, but I need to go to Denerim and return to Kirkwall.” 

“Going to ask Cullen to marry you?” Jowan teased. 

“Very funny,” she said, nudging his side with her elbow. “Something is wrong. I’m worried about him.” 

“What about Anders?” Jowan asked. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“No,” she said sullenly. “I’m not sure I ever will, but I won’t stop looking.” 

* * *

  
Serenity left for Denerim with Mabari-Cullen and stopped by Greagoir’s house before going to the palace. She was disappointed again not to receive an answer when she knocked on the door and wondered how worried for him she should be.

It surprised her when, crossing the palace courtyard, she saw Wynne seated beneath a tree on a stone bench beside the former Knight-Commander with a large book shared across their laps. She was far enough away from them that she couldn’t hear what they discussed, but she was almost sure she saw Greagoir smile. Had she _ever_ seen Greagoir smile?

Wynne heard Mabari-Cullen sniffing around and looked up to see Serenity staring at them, slack-jawed—and then Greagoir’s eyes followed hers and he stood up from the bench so quickly the book fell to their feet. He knelt down to retrieve it and handed it back to Wynne apologetically before stepping away from her. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Serenity said. Had she not been so taken off guard by the sight of them, she might have snuck around the perimeter of the palace just to eavesdrop. 

Greagoir carried himself with his usual stoic countenance, acting as though he hadn’t just been sitting beside a mage, making casual conversation. Wynne was unfazed at being caught, but Serenity was pretty sure in her old age, she was simply beyond caring what anybody thought. 

“I’ll take my leave,” Greagoir said stiffly. 

“Oh, no,” Serenity said regretfully. “Please, don’t leave on my account. I was just about to go inside.” 

“It’s all right,” Wynne assured her softly. “Greagoir, will I see you again tomorrow?” 

He seemed taken aback that she would suggest they meet again so openly. His expression softened for a moment when he met her eyes and then he glanced back at Serenity with that same uncomfortable expression she’d caught him with before. 

Serenity made a show of plugging her ears with her fingers and looking at the sky so he could answer her without feeling spied upon. She wondered if the templar Wynne had mentioned being in love with so many years ago was in fact Greagoir. He wouldn’t have been the Knight-Commander at the time. He might not even have been Knight-Captain yet. She never would have guessed it if she didn’t just find them seated so close together on that bench. She hoped he was the man she spoke of. It would mean he’d forgiven her. 

She thought it very unlikely though. He would have been punished for his part in their romance. He wouldn’t have been promoted after impregnating a mage. She would have thought Wynne’s former lover had been expelled from the order. Unless… nobody ever learned the identity of her templar lover. 

Her own impression of Greagoir had been that he was a fair man—up until he sent Lily to Aeonar and ordered Jowan to be made Tranquil. But he had always been cold and distant. As far as she knew, he never treated Wynne any differently from any other mage. If he was the man that had loved her—whom she still loved—why hadn’t Wynne been sent to the Gallows? Or Starkhaven? Or the Anderfels?

When she glanced back at them, Greagoir was leaving. “Knight-Commander,” Serenity started—and corrected herself. “Greagoir.” 

“Warden,” he said hesitantly. 

“I was looking for you earlier,” Serenity said, watching Wynne as she passed them to walk up the steps to the palace with Mabari-Cullen on her heels. “Can you spare a few minutes to talk with me?” 

Greagoir gestured back toward the bench in the shade and sat down on one end of it as she took the other. “Wynne told me about the time she spent with you during the blight.”

“Oh? Only good things, I hope,” Serenity said. “She didn’t mention Zevran, did she?” 

“She did. She said he was very capable and oddly loyal for an elf with a personality slicker than cooking lard,” Greagoir answered. “After your reckless decision at the Circle before you were taken away, I can’t say I’m surprised anymore by the company you choose to keep.”

“Are you still mad about that?” 

“Mad?” Greagoir scoffed. “You know the purpose of the order and the risk maleficarum pose to society better than anyone. I only hope you were right about him.” 

“I am,” Serenity said. “Jowan is on a very important mission for me now. He really did give up blood magic when he left. He said it ruined his life.” 

“Well, at least there’s that,” Greagoir conceded. “What did you want from me, Warden?” 

“Please, call me Serenity,” she said hesitantly. “I don’t really know where to begin. I came back to the Ferelden Circle after spending some time in Kirkwall.” 

“Is something happening with the darkspawn?” Greagoir asked curiously. “Why would the Free Marches request the aid of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens?” 

“Not exactly.”

  


Greagoir remembered her persistent inquiries about Cullen. “Or perhaps it wasn’t Grey Warden business that found you there.” 

“I… wanted to thank you,” she said. “I feel a little mixed up about everything right now. The Circles, the templars, and the Chantry’s laws. That’s one of the reasons I came back.” 

“I didn’t think I did anything to warrant your thanks,” he said, confused. He tried to remember what he might have done. He only remembered what he had intended before Duncan conscripted her—and then their brief conversations at the Circle afterwards. Any interactions he’d had with her as an apprentice were limited—too short and inconsequential to be committed to memory. 

“There were times I feel you were too harsh,” she said, “but I also saw how you treated the First Enchanter. You two weren't always in agreement, but you respected each other. You allowed him to speak, and you listened to what he had to say, even when it went against your own beliefs. Your interactions with him shaped what I thought a templar should be.”

Greagoir knew the walls had eyes, but he didn’t think a mage or an apprentice would see his relationship with Irving in such a light. He had always willfully kept his distance from the mages until it came to disciplinary measures, leading many of them to call him a tyrant. Most of his conversations with the First Enchanter were had in the privacy of his chambers on the third floor. That an apprentice had gleaned so much from what little she witnessed between them surprised him—but Serenity had proven to be a deeply thoughtful person, which, for the longest time, he thought was naivety. 

“I was doing my Maker given duty,” Greagoir said guardedly. “Being a templar is not an easy path to follow, but the most righteous duties call for sacrifices to be made. You understand that much, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t see how torturing mages is righteous,” Serenity said, meeting his eyes. “You allowed such abuses to occur in the basement of Kinloch Hold, did you not?” 

“How--?” Greagoir stiffened and recalled how she had broken into the repository for the phylacteries. Even guarded by sentinels, she had navigated her way through the basement and had seen the dungeon there, even though it was uninhabited. He felt indignant at being judged, but he also felt remorseful for what might have been the wrong course of action. “I did not enjoy having to discipline mages. But when they won’t obey the law and they won’t respect the rules, they need to learn—”

“By being kept in solitary for a year?” she asked with restrained emotion. “I’ve seen the gibbets, the shackles, and the blood stains—”

“The gibbets haven’t been used in decades,” he sighed. “I know the mage you speak of. The boy. He wouldn’t accept his place in the Circle. We tried time and time again to try things Irving’s way. But how many times did he escape?” 

“Eight,” Serenity answered. 

“Eight?” Greagoir repeated in disbelief. It had been intended as a rhetorical question, but now that he received an answer, it just strengthened his resolve. “A year in the dungeon, and he still couldn’t appreciate all that we tried to give him. He didn’t care how hard Irving tried to help him. The First Enchanter was too soft from the beginning.”

“No,” Serenity interrupted. “Irving’s compassion might have saved Anders. I don’t know that he would have survived as long as he did without it.” 

“Anders,” Greagoir repeated, his memory of the boy’s face coming back to him. He couldn’t remember what he looked like after the third escape attempt. He remembered the stubborn, rebellious expression worn by an adolescent. “He caused trouble for the Wardens too, didn’t he? My suspicions were never confirmed, but the templars sent to retrieve him never returned to Kinloch Hold. Was he behind their disappearance?” 

“No,” Serenity lied. “I conscripted Anders in the presence of King Alistair. Ser Rylock left Vigil’s Keep with him that day. I sent you a letter after it happened. You didn't receive it?” 

“I see,” Greagoir said. “A letter... I... I may have. I don't recall. I’ll admit my methods for trying to control the boy were ineffective. I regret that nothing good came from his punishment. Indeed, all it did was harbor more resentment for the Circle and the templars. My patience for his impudence was worn thin. When I ordered his release, he was gone again. It was all for naught.” 

“You broke his spirit,” Serenity murmured.

“As Knight-Commander, I have had to make difficult decisions, some of which I have come to regret. There were times I allowed the First Enchanter to sway me to compassion—and I regret those times too,” he said, aware of the tears welling in her eyes. He had to make her see. “If I hadn’t been so lenient, perhaps Uldred would not have taken the lives of so many innocents. How many good men and women, templars and mages alike, died because of him? How many children, still learning to control their magic, were turned into abominations?” 

“I don’t understand,” Serenity said softly. “I appreciate that you still see the mages as people and the children as innocent. But when were you ever lenient?”

“That boy escaped so many times because he knew he wouldn’t be punished for it,” Greagoir said bitterly. “He wasn’t the only one we brought back without proper consequences. You think my punishment was too harsh, but there has to be a deterrent to escaping the Circle. I wonder how many mages we returned to their warm beds with forbidden knowledge they’d attained while they were free to seek it out without the templars watching. Some of them spent weeks out in the world, eluding us and endangering everybody else. My leniency got people killed, not only in the Circle but outside of it. I failed in my duty.”

"I am inclined toward the Aequitarian philosophy,” Serenity said. “There needs to be structure and ethics within the Circle. But I can’t help thinking some interpret the Chant in a way the Maker does not will.” 

“Irving tried with you,” Greagoir recalled. “He tried to shape all of his apprentices to his point of view. But he always saw potential in you to be a voice of reason. He thought you seemed older than your age, wiser in a way.” 

“It wasn’t only Irving’s influence that shaped me,” Serenity said. “Yours did too. I joined the Circle when I was young enough to forget my family. You and Irving both served as father figures.” 

“I… what?”

Surely he'd misheard or misunderstood. A mage suggesting he was a father figure? It seemed ludicrous. But then, in a way, the Circle was almost like an orphanage. Some children were given up by their parents, others were taken from them. Most came into magic at a young age, others during adolescence. 

“I know how foolish it sounds. I could never tell that to another mage,” Serenity sighed. “You barely spoke a word to me and you had no qualms with sending me to Aeonar or seeing me made Tranquil. I shouldn’t look at you that way. But you were always there. Every day, leading the Circle and working closely with Irving. I wasn’t as afraid of you as I should have been.” 

Greagoir shifted uncomfortably as he weighed her words and said, “It wasn’t that I felt nothing for you or the other mages under my care. I was disappointed. I was angry. I expected better from you.” 

“Do I still disappoint you?”

He looked at her and shook his head. “It shouldn’t matter how I feel, Hero of Ferelden.” 

“It matters to me,” she said softly. 

“No, you don’t disappoint me,” he answered quietly. He was still confused by her feelings, having always kept his charges at an arm’s length. But he did remember the precocious, inquisitive child she used to be. That she saw him as a surrogate father, however, stirred some feelings of self-reproach. “I blame you for how prematurely I went grey. Always running down the hallways, trying to get templars to chase you. You were so innocent back then." 

"I hardly remember that at all," she admitted. "Did you just make that up?"

"No," Greagoir answered. "You tried explaining the rules of tag to each of my men on the first floor because you thought they didn't understand the game. You were fearless."

"I probably thought they were slow in all that heavy plate, but they must not have entertained me," Serenity said. "The templars that took me away were nice. I don't remember much from back then. I know I was scared, but the templar carried me most of the way. I probably thought he held my hand to comfort me, but I guess he probably just didn't want me to run away."

"We are templars, but we are also human beings under the armor. You were just a child. I was afraid your intrepid nature would make you reckless as you got older, but... you saved the Circle. Your misdeeds were forgiven then. I should not have brought them up again.” 

“What ever happened to Ser Ivan?” Serenity asked. 

“Ivan…?” he asked, trying to put a face to the name. “I don’t… remember. He was a templar?” 

“When Cullen first arrived at the Circle, you mentioned to him rumors of abuse,” Serenity reminded him. “You learned Ser Ivan was abusing the apprentices. Do you remember?” 

Greagoir rubbed his brow frustratedly as he tried to recall a single memory of the man. They all looked the same. 

“No,” he admitted shamefully. He knew it couldn’t have been that long ago that Ivan was a templar under his command. Serenity had only just left the Circle… how many years ago? She still looked quite young. 

“It’s okay,” she answered. “How would you have dealt with a templar you learned was abusing his charges? I heard you housed some who boasted about killing mages.” 

“I discourage such behavior,” Greagoir answered. “It is without honor. We do what is necessary. Anything beyond that is… not what the order stands for.” 

  


Serenity felt her chest tighten as she nodded and raised her hands to cover her face, unable to prevent the tears that welled up in her eyes from falling. Even though she’d lived with Greagoir in the Circle for most of her life, it was still a relief to hear the Knight-Commander say what she wanted to hear from someone in his position. Even though he had taken stringent measures against Lily and Jowan—and even herself, she still saw good in him. She still saw the example he set for his men, even if some of them didn’t follow it. Even though he wore a cold and sometimes callous mask, underneath it, he did harbor compassion for his charges. 

“Does this have to do with Cullen?” Greagoir asked, afraid to hear her answer. He hadn’t inquired about the young templar since he’d transferred to the Gallows. 

Serenity took a deep breath to steady the shaking in her voice and wiped away the streaks of tears on her cheeks as she answered, “No. Cullen is… doing better.” 

“You’ve spoken to him?” Greagoir asked, surprised. 

“That depends on how much trouble he’ll be in if I say yes,” Serenity answered.

Greagoir sighed, shaking his head, “I won’t repeat anything you tell me. I am no longer the Knight-Commander. Anything I say would be taken for mad ramblings, I’m sure.” 

“Does it hurt?” Serenity asked quietly. 

“Does what hurt?” he asked and studied her face, noticing her furrowed brow. “I am not in any pain.” 

“I’m relieved to hear that. I’ve seen…” she trailed off, hesitant to say more. It wasn’t her place to discuss what he was going through. But she still wondered what it was like. She intended to be there for Cullen when the long-term effects of lyrium became too much for him to bear. 

“What have you seen?” Greagoir asked. 

“Templars who are ill,” Serenity answered carefully. “Either from taking too much or for not having enough.” 

Greagoir groaned, “Maker preserve me. You’ve always been an inquisitive girl, but there are things you are not meant to know.” 

“You know why it’s important to me,” Serenity said.

“I shouldn’t be hearing this,” Greagoir said, looking away from her. She wasn't supposed to have feelings for a templar. “What has you in such distress? If it isn’t about Cullen, does it have to do with the Gallows?” 

Part of her understood that feeling of guilt Anders harbored, having escaped the Circle while so many others were still trapped inside, subject to abuses she was fortunate not to have grown up with. She didn’t see it the same way in Ferelden. She knew, not only from her firsthand experience with Alrik, but from what she’d heard from Beau and the mages in the market at the Gallows that disdain for mages was encouraged. Abuse was allowed. Compassion was disparaged. 

“The Knight-Commander there isn’t like you,” she said, considering how much she should say. She wanted to tell him everything, to hear what he had to say. She hoped for some kind of advice, but she also hated to dump her concerns on his lap when he finally got away from the Circle. He was finally free. It felt wrong to drag him back into it. 

“Who is the Knight-Commander there?” he asked, certain he knew the name at one time. “Guylian?” 

“Meredith Stannard,” Serenity answered. “I don’t know a lot about her. I only met her briefly and saw her speak with the First Enchanter. They don’t respect one another. I have seen the effects of her reign over the Gallows. She rules with fear and breeds resentment. I fear the worst for all who reside there. That was three years ago. I have heard it’s only gotten worse.” 

“Has the Chantry done nothing?” Greagoir asked. "I was entrusted with running the Circle smoothly and maintaining order, but if I had ever stepped so far out of line that the First Enchanter would request aid from the Chantry, I am certain I would have been under review. Even templars are not above reproach."

“No,” Serenity answered. “The Circle there isn’t like Kinloch Hold. The mages are kept in cells. The templars call them ‘robes.’ It’s not right what the templars get away with. The mages are beaten, raped, starved, and turned Tranquil for minor offenses. There are still good templars stationed there, but the monsters are the ones with all the power. And now, Meredith doesn’t only rule over the Gallows but the city itself.” 

“That…” Greagoir muttered, trying to wrap his head around the allegations she brought upon the Knight-Commander there. It was a lot to take in. Involvement in politics and ruling weren’t what the order was meant for. “Do you have any proof of these crimes that I can present to the Divine?” 

“Proof…?” Serenity asked. “I… I only have my testimony. I doubt it would be enough. She need only send a trusted pair of eyes to see the living conditions in the Circle. If someone were to speak to the First Enchanter, or perhaps, Ser Thrask—or Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, they could learn more.” 

“Not Cullen?” Greagoir asked. 

“I don’t think he would speak out against the Knight-Commander,” she answered. “I think he would be honest about the treatment of the mages, but I think his loyalty to Meredith has clouded his judgment. He’s beginning to see, but… I don’t know that he would condemn her as the source of the disease.” 

“I did not know I was sending him into this kind of environment,” Greagoir said remorsefully. “He needed to be elsewhere. Kinloch Hold held too many traumatic memories that had him jumping at shadows. I tried to sending him to Greenfell, but he didn’t feel he was serving as he was meant to. The Knight-Commander assured me he belonged in the Gallows.” 

“Cullen is where he needs to be now,” Serenity assured him. “He’s no longer jumping at shadows. He must be the Maker’s shield in that place.” 

“I will write to the Divine,” Greagoir said and stood up. “I may no longer be Knight-Commander, but my word still carries some weight.” 

Serenity stood up after him and hugged him. “Thank you, Greagoir.” 

Greagoir was surprised by her show of affection and stood rigid for a moment before he patted her back comfortingly. “I don’t know how long my memory will serve me, so I must act with haste. I have to write everything down these days.” 

“I’ll come see you again when I have a chance,” Serenity said, letting him go. 

* * *

  


Serenity climbed the steps to the palace and found the guest room in which she left her belongings. She was surprised to find Wynne waiting for her, seated on the edge of the bed. “Wynne?” 

“Your dog went to alert Alistair to your presence in his castle,” she said and smiled. “Did you have a good talk with Greagoir?” 

“I’m glad I finally had a chance to speak candidly with him,” Serenity answered. “It gave me clarity.”

“I hope you know you can always come speak with me if you need council,” Wynne said. “But I understand if you had questions only a templar could answer.” 

“There were also things I wanted to tell him that I could never say before,” Serenity said. “But enough about me. Were you two on a date?” 

Wynne laughed, “Oh, no, no. Since he’s retired, I try to keep his mind busy is all. I like to think we’re friends. I am trying to keep him comfortable and slow the progression of his symptoms. But it is only a matter of time before he succumbs to them. He has more good days than bad, for now.” 

“Oh, I… I’m glad you’re here for him,” Serenity said. “How are you slowing the progression of his symptoms though? Is that something I could learn?” 

“If you become a spirit healer, perhaps,” Wynne said. “I only think that’s what I’m doing. Frankly, it’s hard to tell. The lyrium the templars take makes them resistant to magic in all its forms, but spirit healers are Fade touched. We aren’t only healing with our hands but with the hands of benevolent spirits across the veil. It’s a stronger kind of magic. But there is no cure for the long-term exposure to lyrium, not when you’ve taken it for as long as he has. I can only make him a little more comfortable.” 

Serenity sighed, “I don’t know if I would be a good spirit healer. Could you teach me?” 

“It would take many weeks of study and practice,” Wynne warned her. "Maybe even months or years."

“I don’t have the time to commit to it yet,” Serenity said. “I have to return to Kirkwall.” 

“My time is counting down,” Wynne reminded her, “but there are other teachers out there that can help you when you’re ready for the undertaking. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I took a peek inside that chest you stored your things in. I wanted to be sure you weren’t storing tainted clothing in there. I know how your robes used to look after a venture down in the Deep Roads. They needed to be laundered twice.” 

“I didn’t store any dirty clothes in the chest,” Serenity said, crossing her arms. “Why would I do that when Alistair has servants to launder clothes?”

“I don’t know why you do a lot of the things you do,” Wynne shrugged. “As I recall, you wore a robe for three days with permanent blood stains soaked into it. If you had washed it the same night, it wouldn’t have stained.” 

“I barely had time to wash myself,” Serenity said defensively. “We were walking everywhere. That’s exhausting. I just wanted to take a nap, not wash clothes.”

“You’re as bad as Alistair,” Wynne sighed. 

“I do not wear stinky socks with holes in them.” 

“Well, while checking for rotting clothes, I happened across a book buried under your blue gambeson,” she said, giving Serenity a knowing look. “A book written by one Randy Dowager?” 

Serenity would have hidden her face behind a pillow if it was within reach, but she couldn’t hide the sheepish smile on her face and the heat rising to her cheeks. “You’re not about to blackmail me, are you?” 

Wynne laughed and stood up, revealing a book on the bed that she had hidden behind her back. She handed it to her and said, “No, silly girl. I thought you would like to have another one of his rare quarterlies. This one might be more suited to you.” 

“’Dreams of Desire, Confessions of a Circle Apprentice,’” Serenity gasped. “Can I keep this?” 

“It’s yours,” Wynne smiled. “It’s a good thing I was the one to go snooping through your chest and not Alistair. I’m sure you never would have heard the end of it from him.” 

“You’re right about that,” Serenity said and smiled. “Thank you. I’m going to read it tonight.” 

“With a glass of wine,” Wynne advised.


	25. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act 3. Serenity returns to Kirkwall after receiving a distressing letter from Cullen and speaks with him candidly about the deterioration of the Circle over the past three years... and even before that.

Serenity noticed as soon as she stepped off the boat to the Gallows how eerily quiet the courtyard was. Whenever she had crossed the inlet before, mages whom she assumed were granted special privileges were outside, and there were always twice as many templars and their recruits tending to business in the square. Now, only the merchants manned their booths, bored and bitter at having no one to browse their wares. The brass statues that loomed over the courtyard, casting shadows that stretched across the broken tiles where they were hunched over with grief, captivated Serenity’s attention without the distraction of foot traffic around them. Whatever this place used to be still existed in the Fade with all of its history still seeping through the veil.

She hoped the Knight-Commander wasn’t out and about, certain she would remember her by her Warden’s armor if nothing else. She was relieved to find Cullen manning his usual post, but her relief was overridden with concern when she saw how tired he looked. He caught sight of her and straightened up as he subtly scanned the courtyard for anyone that might overhear their conversation. Ser Karras stood not fifty feet away, observing them with a sidelong glance. 

"I shouldn't have concerned you," he said regrettably. "I knew you would come back after I sent that last letter." 

"There was a lot left unsaid," she answered quietly, aware any sound would carry in the empty courtyard, bouncing off the high walls surrounding them. "Things you couldn't put to parchment."

"We can't talk here. I don't know when I can get away." 

"Find me at the Hanged Man,” she whispered. She knew whatever he left out of his letters weighed heavily on his heart. “If anybody asks, you’re there to speak with Hawke. Varric can weave together a story in a pinch if someone should come looking.” 

“Thank you, Warden,” Cullen answered aloud stiffly. He knew Ser Karras was watching and perhaps trying to listen in. “You should be on your way now. Your order has no business here at the Circle.”

“Knight-Captain,” Serenity returned with reservation in equal measure. She wasn’t sure her tone could fool anyone, thinking it sounded more like she was mocking him. By the way Cullen’s mouth tightened, she was almost certain he was hiding some amusement, but she couldn’t say for sure nor could she lean in and ask him if she sounded at all convincing. “I hope you’ll pass my message on to the Knight-Commander, seeing as she is filling in for the Viscount.” 

“As I said before, the Knight-Commander is too busy to deal with Grey Wardens,” Cullen answered. “If Viscount Dumar asked you to investigate the Deep Roads, you are free to do so.” 

“Very well,” Serenity answered and returned to the ferry to cross the inlet. M.C. waited on the other side at the docks and followed her towards the Hanged Man. “I did not miss this place one bit. Did you?” 

Mabari-Cullen let out a high-pitched keen as he tilted his head. 

“What? You did?” Serenity asked, shocked. “Is it the odors? You like the fishy odors, don’t you?” 

Mabari-Cullen growled and chuffed before trotting off ahead of her to pee on something. 

“Oh, wait, I know,” Serenity said, jogging to catch up to him. “It’s that other mabari, isn’t it? You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?” 

Mabari-Cullen barked and body-wagged, probably hoping she would give him her blessing to stalk Petunia Hawke. 

“I’m sure you’ll have an opportunity while we’re here to meet up with her again,” Serenity said, patting his head. “For now, let’s wait for Cullen.” 

She knew by his overdramatic sulking—his head hung low, his tail between his legs, and the way he dragged his feet as he walked—that he was hoping she would change her mind and take a detour to Hightown. It was nearly impossible not to. When she pushed open the door to the Hanged Man, however, Mabari-Cullen perked up and ran inside, toppling an empty chair on his way to jump on somebody. 

“What in Andraste’s name has gotten into—” 

“Down, boy! Down, damn it!” Nathaniel protested, standing up from his seat at the table as Mabari-Cullen knocked over his mug of ale. His sister, Delilah, was seated across from him, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. 

“Nate?” Serenity asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?” 

“Commander,” Nathaniel answered, blocking Mabari-Cullen’s mouth from reaching his face as he stumbled back into his chair.

“He missed you,” Serenity said, crossing her arms. She made no effort to help him. She wasn’t going to deny her dog two happy reunions in one day. Once Mabari-Cullen sufficiently covered Nathaniel’s face in affection, he settled down under the table to pick up any stale scraps of food that had gone unnoticed. 

Nathaniel heaved a sigh as he wiped at the slobber on his cheeks and said, “He’s a good dog.” 

Serenity smiled at Delilah and asked, “I didn’t expect to find you here. Where are Albert and Thomas?” 

“Neither did I, Commander. They’re back in Amaranthine,” she answered and stood up. “I wanted to stay here to see my brother home safely. I’ll give you two some time to catch up. I would like to hear the rest of that dwarf’s story about the Champion, anyway.”

Serenity took her seat across from Nathaniel and said, “I sincerely hope you hid the budgetary ledgers and the coffers while you’re away. Otherwise, we’re liable to return to Vigil’s Keep and find all our stipends spent on imported ale from Orzammar.” 

Nathaniel chuckled, “Oghren has his hands full with Felsi and the little one. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“You don’t think the sleepless nights and diaper changing would drive Oghren to drink more?” she asked. 

“The child is past that age,” Nathaniel reminded her. “She’s at the age where she’s running around, getting her little hands into everything.” 

“I have such a loose grasp on time nowadays,” she sighed. “So, what are you doing in Kirkwall? Were you looking for me?”

“You were helping Avernus in Soldier’s Peak when the letters came,” he said. “Had I known you were coming back here, I might have forwarded them to you. Weisshaupt requested we investigate the Primeval Thaig. Without you present, the responsibility fell to me. The Wardens that accompanied me didn’t make it out,” he said and reassured her, “None that you joined personally.” 

“I am still sorry to hear it. Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“Yes,” he answered, keeping his voice low. “They didn’t tell me what exactly I was after, only that the thaig was the deepest on record. But I discovered the red lyrium. I had some in a vial I was going to send in a missive to Weisshaupt, but I met Varric and the Champion down there. They warned me to avoid keeping it in my possession. I left it in the Deep Roads. I have to say, I am glad I did.” 

“I will have to warn Stroud in case they try to send him too,” Serenity said. 

“If you are not here for the same reason I am, is it about the templars and the mages?” Nathaniel asked. 

“Yes,” she answered. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but I hope you’ll stick around a little while longer.” 

Nathaniel smirked, “Getting involved where we don’t belong again, are you?” 

“What Weisshaupt doesn’t know can’t hurt us.” 

“I will remain here until you give me leave,” he said. “I met Anders, by the way. He was with the Champion in the Deep Roads. That mage knows how to make friends wherever he goes.” 

“How is he?” she asked, concerned. “Did he seem…”

“Off?” Nathaniel asked. “He was jovial, but he certainly doesn’t have the same spirit as the Anders I once knew.” 

“You have no idea,” Serenity muttered. “There is something I couldn’t detail in my last letter to you when I requested Jowan’s assistance. We have a new ally working with Avernus, one we’re keeping just between the four of us.” 

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Nathaniel asked. “You’ve already recruited would-be assassins and an abomination. What’s next?” 

Serenity leaned in and whispered, “The Architect’s Disciple.”

“I would say ‘you’re joking,’ but I know you well enough to believe it,” Nathaniel sighed and sat back in his chair. “It’s a good thing the Wardens trust you so implicitly. Though some of them believed we should have cooperated with the Architect, I believe most are in agreement with your decision. They wouldn’t want darkspawn involved in Warden business, especially not one intelligent enough to betray us.” 

“It pays to slay an Archdemon,” Serenity said. “Except money. It doesn’t pay money.” 

Nathaniel laughed, “You scrounge enough coin meddling in other people’s affairs.” 

“Not lately,” Serenity said. “We should go by the Chanter’s board in the morning. Just like the good old days.” 

“I better not have another mug of this stale piss then,” Nathaniel said, wrinkling his nose at the empty mug of ale as he set it upright.

“Don’t say that too loud or next time you might really be drinking piss,” Serenity warned him. 

“Not like I’d be able to tell the difference,” Nathaniel smirked and stood up. “I’ll see you in the morning, Commander.”

Serenity stood up after him and looked around the Hanged Man, feeling oddly nostalgic for the blood-stained floor and rowdy patrons. She abhorred Kirkwall and Lowtown, but she felt more at ease within the Hanged Man than she did even walking about Hightown. The only thing she couldn’t adjust to was the sour smell of alcohol and sweat. She walked up the steps to peek into Varric’s open doorway, relieved to leave the warmth of the pub below. 

“I’m back,” she announced. 

Varric turned in his chair to greet her and smiled, “Well, come on in. Don’t be shy, Frosty.” 

“I wanted to give you fair warning,” she said and stumbled as M.C. barged through the doorway and knocked her into the doorjamb. “Cullen should be dropping by later. If he’s followed or if anyone should come by in the next few days asking questions, I wasn’t here.” 

“Right, the Knight-Captain is under so much stress lately, he’s turned to the bottle,” Varric grinned, tossing M.C. a treat. 

“No, something a little more believable,” Serenity said. 

“Well, coming up with a better story that doesn’t make him look worse than a lush really depends on the time of day,” Varric said. “If he shows up at midnight, is it better that he couldn’t sleep and came in for a night cap or is he having a midnight rendezvous with Isabela?” 

Serenity thought about it for a moment and conceded, “Fine. I leave the lying to you.” 

“Don't worry, your Knight-Captain is in good hands. I promise to make up something that doesn’t reflect badly on him. I'll even make sure to emphasize his muscles,” Varric offered.

Serenity chuckled, imagining Varric pushing any nosy templars to their wits’ end. “I want a copy of every book you’ve ever written, especially if you emphasize muscles in them.”

“I can make that happen,” Varric grinned and went over to his bookshelf. “Have you seen Anders yet since you got back?” 

“No. Why? Is he okay?” 

“I don’t know. I’m happy when he’s happy, but… he tried to give me something meaningful of his. It felt like he was saying goodbye,” Varric said and handed her ‘Hard in Hightown.’ “Start with that one.” 

“Goodbye?” Serenity asked, worried. “Did something happen?” 

“He’s been asking Hawke for help lately. I don’t know what exactly. He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Varric shrugged. “He had Hawke running into the sewers with him and digging through caves. I don’t know what he was looking for, but Hawke’s pissed. She said he lied about what she was helping him do. He won’t tell her the whole story.” 

“I’ll go see Anders tomorrow,” Serenity said and held up the book. “For now, I’m going to go read this.” 

Serenity retired to her room with M.C. and lit the candles and sconces for enough light to read by before stretching out across her bed with the book in her hands. The sounds of boisterous chatter from downstairs became a hum of background noise as she focused on the words on the page. Chapter by chapter, she became more intrigued by Donnen Brennokovic, young Jevlan, and Captain Hendallen. They felt so much like real people, she was almost sure he knew them and wrote a true story. But that was what made him such a talented writer, able to convince the readers they were reading a true account by someone who was there. When she reached chapter seven and Captain Belladonna called Donnen ‘sweet thing,’ she envisioned Isabela and wondered who the other characters might be modeled after. 

* * *

  


_How can I tell her...? How do I tell her I lied?_

Cullen never meant to be dishonest with Serenity. But the lie twisted his stomach in a knot. How could she ever look at him the same way when she learned the truth? He still remembered the hesitation with which she'd asked him before.

_'But you… when you arrived here, you didn’t…'_

He passed Varric's room in the Hanged Man and peeked into the other open door down the hall. He saw Serenity lying on her stomach with a book propped up on her pillow. 

_But I did,_ he thought ruefully as he knocked on her door.

Serenity looked back over her shoulder and sat up as she closed the book and set it beside her on the bed. “Cullen.” 

“I should have expected to find you with your nose in a book,” he said fondly, closing the door carefully behind him. “I can’t stay long. Meredith has become suspicious of anyone leaving the barracks.”

“Mages are killing themselves and giving into demons,” Serenity said. “You wanted to say more in your letter. What is happening?” 

It felt like his world was crumbling down around him again. He thought he could feel nothing more painful than the losses he mourned, the violent deaths and transformations he’d witnessed, and the tortures he’d endured at the hands of demons and maleficarum in Ferelden. The trauma left scars that numbed him to violence and compassion. But then he started to discover the pieces of humanity he’d thought lost and it became more difficult to follow the current in Kirkwall, yet it was impossible to fight against it without drowning. 

“When I was a boy, I knew exactly what I was meant to do. I wanted to help people. I thought there was no better way to do that than by becoming a templar, trained in the Chantry to be disciplined, to be the 'sword arm of the Maker.' I felt I was answering a higher calling to protect people... from each other, from themselves, from evil. But I was naïve. I didn’t know what it really meant. That first year in the Circle, I questioned the order,” he said and started pacing anxiously. “I thought I understood the dangers of magic and the necessity to isolate mages from the rest of the world, but I questioned whether they truly couldn’t be treated like people. We were taught to consider them dangerous, always at the mercy of demons. After what happened with Uldred, I swore never to question the order again. I swore never to think any mage above the temptations of demons.”

“Cullen, did something happen?” she asked, taking his arm to stop him. 

“I... lied to you before,” he admitted. He couldn't look her in the eye, afraid to see the disappointment on her face. “When you asked me if I had ever tortured a mage, the very idea offended me. I didn't want you to think me capable of doing what Alrik did.” 

“Alrik was a monster,” she said, taking his hand. “I would never compare you to him.”

“So was I,” he muttered and slipped his hand from her grasp. He felt unworthy of her comfort. “I realized what I justified as punishment was excessive. I didn't see it that way at the time. My first year here, Meredith called on me more than once to dole out corporal punishment to the apprentices that misbehaved. It was more than I had ever been called to do in Ferelden, but it is commonplace here.” 

“In the dungeons?” she asked, imagining a frightened apprentice, not yet passed her Harrowing, shackled in a cell and flogged.

“No, there’s… a post outside,” he answered quietly, “where the other mages could see the lashes. They needed to be made an example of.” 

Serenity winced. “What for?”

“Speaking out of turn,” Cullen answered, aware of how disproportionate the punishment was for the behavior. It shouldn’t have ever been a punishable offense to begin with, but Meredith demanded respect. “The dungeons are utilized for more severe disciplinary measures.”

“Maker have mercy,” Serenity muttered under her breath. "I'm sure Alrik was administering those beatings in the name of penance." 

“Perhaps. I… I thought it was necessary because without consequences for breaking the rules, the mages would see how far they could push their boundaries. I didn’t want to see what happened in Ferelden happen again here,” he said. “Meredith has her reasons for distrusting mages. She understood me better than anyone… She saw hatred burning in me and she stoked the coals.” 

Serenity reached out to take his hand again and stood close enough for her breath to fog against his breast plate as she looked up at him. “It made you feel safe to exert control over those you feared because you had all control stripped from you before. But now you see, it isn’t better, is it?”

“I am ashamed to say it took thinking of you to remind me that these mages are people too. When you found me in Kinloch Hold, I thought of you as a weapon wielded by the Wardens against the darkspawn. I tried to convince myself of it, but you've always been more than that,” Cullen sighed, meeting her eyes as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. 

He had never thought himself as being callous or cruel, but he had followed his orders without question. Those orders, at times, were callous and cruel. The way he thought about mages had been callous and cruel. How could he think of her as anything less than who she was? How could he see her as the exception when she was once just like the other apprentices in his care? 

“If Greagoir had ordered you to flog me, would you have done it?” she asked. "For speaking out of turn? I do that quite often."

“What? No, I… I couldn’t ever imagine hurting you,” he said.

He had been so enraptured by their conversations in the Circle. It would have been unspeakably cruel for Greagoir to strip him of his compassions in such a way—but it was not something his former Knight-Commander would ever have commanded him to do. It might have driven him to abandon the order if he had. 

But he understood why she asked. He had obeyed without question. He always did as he was commanded.

When Greagoir assigned him to strike the killing blow during her Harrowing, he had accepted his assignment without hesitation. He had to prove that his duty to the Maker came first, that he would not falter. It was a test. He was just grateful she had passed hers. If she _had_ changed, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have hesitated. 

“If you were to become an abomination, you wouldn’t be you anymore," Cullen said. "I would uphold my sworn duty for the safety of all if that were the case, but… it wears on me to even imagine you in this place. Seeing what Alrik did to you made me imagine it was you they tied to the post for speaking to somebody you weren’t supposed to. This place would have changed you. It would have prevented you from growing into the person you are now. It would have snuffed out that spark I see in you… the idealistic, forgiving, trusting part I envy in you.”

“You think they’re breaking the mages’ spirits here,” she said. 

“I know we are,” he answered shamefully. “And I allowed it to happen. After learning about Alrik’s unsanctioned use of the brand, I investigated the Tranquils and learned those assigned to the courtyard were all turned by him. They weren’t just branded, they… it was worse than I knew. They spoke openly about it with me. I had unwittingly allowed him to parade around his victims.” 

“You are the Knight-Captain,” she reminded him as she reached up to cup his cheek, drawing his attention back to her. “You are in a position of influence. Alrik may no longer be here, but others like him still are. What will you do to change things?” 

Serenity could see the guilt he carried on his conscience like a slow-acting poison. How much had he justified to survive in this place? How many Tranquils did he encounter, knowing they had passed their Harrowing? How much had he been aware of that he did not stop to question? 

“I don’t know that I can,” he said, taking her hand in his. It was strange to remember her hands, so soft and gentle with him, were the same hands that produced bolts of arcane energy and blasts of cold frost that could fell a rage demon. “I have tried to curb the behavior of my subordinates. I’ve written formal reprimands only to have Meredith suggest I show leniency to a templar merely trying to do his sacred duty. We have dominance over mages by divine right.”

“Do you believe that?” Serenity asked, disheartened. “Do you believe it is the templars’ divine right to do as they please? Are mages not worthy of the Maker’s side because of the magic they were born with? Was I born to be stood over by a man with his sword drawn?” 

“No, I…” Cullen hesitated. “You are still one of the Maker’s children. It is only the maleficarum that are damned to wander the Fade, unwelcome at the Maker’s side. I… I didn’t mean…” 

“I’m sorry, Cullen,” she said softly. She regretted the fervor behind her words, knowing he only repeated the tenets of his order. “I should not have taken that to heart. It hurt to hear you say it.” 

“It is what the order dictates,” he said, still holding her hand, “but our power should not be abused.” 

“Do you think the order is pushing the mages towards the very practices you’re supposed to be discouraging?” she asked. "Blood magic isn’t always about being hungry for power and immortality. From I've seen, it's just as often about taking drastic measures to attain freedom and ensure survival."

“There should never be any excuse for dealing with demons. But not all of the mages are performing blood magic. Most of them obey. Yet, the Knight-Commander suspects them all. I might have seen them through the same lens years ago. She used to be more reasonable, if stricter than I was accustomed to. She maintained order better than any Knight-Commander before her,” Cullen said. “I knew about the disciplinary measures she recommended, but I was ignorant to a lot of what else happened inside the Gallows. I didn’t come to Kirkwall to make friends, so I was not privy to many private conversations between the templars, especially since I was promoted ahead of men that had served here much longer than I did.”

“But you’ve seen it firsthand, haven’t you?” Serenity asked. “I was only escorted to a cell, but I could see what was going on wasn’t above board.” 

“I... don't spend a lot of time inside the tower,” Cullen answered apprehensively. “It makes me feel like I'm in a cage again.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, aware of how selfish it sounded to say it. He wondered if she thought he was making a pathetic excuse for apathy and inaction. He knew every mage in the Circle must have felt the same way, confined to their cells. It wasn’t like the Circle in Ferelden, where they could walk freely about the tower. But he couldn’t control the sense of panic that rose under his skin as the walls closed in around him and the memory of charred corpses assaulted his senses. 

He wondered sometimes what the mages had to do to be granted special privileges to be allowed outside in the courtyard. He knew what the rules of the Circle were and what constituted good behavior. It was he who signed off on such allowances, but when he considered which templars those recommendations came from, he was almost certain the mages weren’t let out on their own merit but for an exchange of favors. Questioning the templars he suspected of wrongdoing yielded nothing but annoyance and perpetuated more rumors about him, questioning his capacity to lead based on the paranoia he had arrived in Kirkwall with or, in contradiction to that apparently defining personality trait, his latent compassion for mages. 

In recent years, at least, he had earned the trust of most of his templars. He was far more approachable than the Knight-Commander. If one of his men asked for help, he didn't reprimand them or question their loyalty.

“The Knight Commander saw fit to keep me outside,” he continued. “She posted me there to be the face of the Gallows, to meet visitors and oversee the courtyard. I don’t need my desk to complete most of my paperwork. I didn’t ask for it, but she knew how I felt. I can’t think of her as the terrible person the mages speak of, but I know they aren’t afforded the kindness she’s shown me.” 

“She showed you empathy when your ideals matched her own,” Serenity said. “But now?” 

“I have only shown her loyalty,” Cullen answered. “It was around four years ago that I noticed a change in her. I think something happened… I have asked, but it is not my place to insist she speak to me about personal issues if she doesn’t want to. She used to value my perspective on matters, but now… I feel it won’t take much for her not to trust me at all.” 

Serenity understood why he was under so much stress. Despite his position of power, he was overshadowed by Meredith, all of his attempts to prevent wrongdoings undermined by her determination to keep the mages under her heel. He felt powerless.

“The mages do not trust me either,” Cullen said, rubbing his brow. “I suppose that is to be expected, but… it shouldn’t be that way. Just yesterday I questioned an apprentice with a bruise on her cheek. She would not speak with me because she fears retaliation, but I also felt like she was afraid of me. Like she thought I was testing her and that I would punish her if she spoke out against another templar. Nothing I said could reassure her she was safe to speak with me. This is not the man I imagined I would become.”

He felt her hand on his arm and sighed, relieved she would still try to comfort him, even after all the wrongs he confessed to. The weight he carried felt like it was about to bury him, but she still tried to carry that burden with him. As he turned to sit on the edge of her bed, she sat beside him. For a long moment, he waited for her to speak, but her presence, even in silence, was enough to ground him. 

“If you had allowed me to sway you, I… know I wouldn’t be the same man,” Cullen said quietly as he stared out the glazed windowpane at the wall of the building across the street. Sometimes he missed the scenic view of the lake and trees from the fourth floor of Kinloch Hold. “The lives lost already haunt me, but had the Circle been annulled, I don’t know how I would have survived it. In the moment, it seemed the sensible thing to do, but since being away, I’ve had time to reflect on those that made it out. They were just as scared as I was. I hate to think they bare the same scars I do. I was able to leave that place. They aren't afforded that choice.”

  


Serenity was relieved he still had the capacity to empathize with mages, when before he had been dismissive of and inconvenienced by their plight. She was afraid Uldred’s actions had galvanized his heart, leaving no room for compassion—or for her. Everything he told her was a lot for her to swallow, but he was still the same man underneath it all.

“I used to regret not going back sooner,” Serenity said. “I tortured myself thinking about how long you had been kept in that cage and how many innocent lives were lost in the days leading up to my arrival. But I came to accept that I arrived exactly when I needed to. Had I been there sooner, I might have been unprepared. I fought blood mages, abominations, and demons. I learned spells I needed the time to master. Many suffered for my poor timing, but had I tried to save them all before I was ready, I would have surely perished in the fight and the Circle would have been annulled.” Serenity looked up at him as she covered his hand in his lap. “You are not too late, Cullen. You needed time to heal. You cannot fight a battle with a broken arm, nor can you fight with a broken spirit. You can still save what’s left of this Circle.” 

Cullen held his breath as he blinked away the strain behind his eyes, subduing the threat of tears as he took her words to heart. “It’s hardly the same,” he said, his voice wavering as he smiled ruefully. 

She reached up to turn his chin in her hand and smiled as she reassured him, “You are a good man. You are the best of what the order has to offer. You will do what’s right. It won’t be easy, and you will meet resistance at every step. But the Maker guides you where others have lost their way.” 

He lifted her hand from his chin to kiss her knuckles. “I’m grateful you came. If I’m honest, there is nobody I trust more than you,” he said and reluctantly stood up. “There have been whispers of a rebellion within the Circle. Everybody is on edge, the Knight-Commander most of all. She has already sent to Val Royeaux for the Right of Annulment.”

Serenity felt her heart leap into her throat and couldn’t restrain herself from the verge of shouting. “On what grounds!? Her paranoia about everyone in the Circle secretly consorting with demons? What does the Grand Cleric have to say about this? Surely she would not support the Right of Annulment!” 

“The Grand Cleric is bound by duty to support the order. I can only assume she has endorsed the request,” Cullen said. “Elthina only wants to keep the peace. She has urged the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander to work together to come to a compromise, but Meredith believes there can be no compromise with mages. That would only compromise the safety of Kirkwall’s citizenry. Orsino has no real power within the Circle. Any hope of it is an illusion granted by the Grand Cleric to try to quiet any disruptions and prevent an insurrection. She has made no effort to undermine Meredith’s hold on the city either.”

“That’s it?” Serenity asked with an edge of desperation. “She would have the Circle annulled on a whim? Because Meredith can’t handle the stress of—”

“The Knight-Commander has a spine of iron to handle the stresses of her position,” Cullen said defensively. He realized the tone he took and sighed, “I… I’m not saying I agree with it, but I know it wasn’t a decision Meredith made on a whim. She knows what happened in Nevarra and Ferelden. The only reason they succeeded in Ferelden was because they were given the freedom to congregate and spread their blood magic in secret. The mages here are not given that freedom and are not as skilled as Uldred at keeping their evils hidden.” 

“You think, given freedom to socialize, they would go right to summoning demons?” Serenity asked. 

“No. But should this rebellion bear the same rotten fruit Uldred’s coup did, we will be prepared for it. Just because she has called for the Right doesn’t mean she has invoked it. I don’t believe the Circle is irredeemable. It’s not like it was in Ferelden. Not yet, anyway. Even then, time proved you right. The Circle was able to be saved,” he said. “I would rather not see innocents be slaughtered out of fear and hysteria. It won’t reflect well on the order if we condemn them all.”

“You have the blood mages under control and you’re prepared for when they take the next step,” Serenity said. “But are you prepared for the evil that stands with you?” 

“I have seen templars possessed by demons of rage, sloth, and hunger. Some of their faces were used against me to try to lead me to wickedness… or just to try to break me. It is not the same, but sometimes I feel as though I am speaking with a woman possessed,” Cullen admitted quietly. “That is why I’m here now, questioning what it is we’re doing. She’s driven many good knights to leave the order. Others who question her authority are made pariahs. But, just as I won’t condemn the Circle as beyond saving, I will not betray my Knight-Commander.”

Serenity knew a war was coming. She had heard as much muttered between the templars she passed at the docks. He would have to choose a side. No matter which side he chose, she thought, the victory in the battle would dictate the opposite outcome of the war. 

If the templars enacted the Right of Annulment at the Gallows, the truth of Meredith’s madness and the injustice of the mages’ plight would reach the Divine’s ears and spread across Thedas. The templars’ reputation would be tarnished and innocent mages would be massacred—unless they could restore order without enacting the right and spare the lives of those that did not want to fight. But if the mages rebelled and broke free, especially with the aid of blood magic, it would bolster the public’s opinions of the templars and support their fear of mages. No matter what happened, change was coming, and it would not come easy.

“I have been told I can be stubborn,” Cullen said, sensing her consternation. “But I hope you understand. I must stand with the order.”

“I do,” Serenity answered, looking up at him. “I could not encourage faith and compassion for one thing while decrying it for another. I admire your conviction and your heart. I only hope your duty will not supersede your moral integrity.” 

“Not all of the templars are like Meredith. Most of them aren’t,” Cullen said. “Her lieutenants are the worst of them though. The others fall in line as they’re commanded. Any that question their orders she suspects of being involved with the rebel mages.” 

“That’s absurd!” Serenity heaved an indignant sigh. 

“I know it was selfish for me to hope you would come here," Cullen admitted. "But I'm glad you did. I have never been able to speak so openly and honestly with anybody, least of all within the order.” 

“You can tell me anything,” Serenity assured him. “We may not always see eye to eye, but I respect your mind and trust your intuition.”

“I can’t imagine why you would have so much faith in my intuition,” he said quietly. “I have acted irrationally before.”

“That was before,” she said. “You came back from the brink of madness. Your fears no longer cripple you. You’re stronger now. I never doubted you, Cullen.”

“I should return to the Gallows,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t want to leave, not when he had a moment alone with her. 

“Wait,” Serenity said and plucked a book from her bag. She hid it behind her back and said, “I know what you’re going to say, but give it a try.” She handed him a tightly bound leather book entitled ‘Thunder Upon the Mountains! The Battle for the Heart of Dragon’s Peak!’ by Philliam, a Bard!. 

Cullen chuckled, “Really?” 

“It’s a riveting true story,” she insisted, relieved to see him smile and hear the edge of amusement in his voice, “about a templar named Ser Delrin Barris. Have you heard of him?” 

  


“I have,” Cullen answered and smiled at her thoughtfulness, relieved she would still find the good in his order when there were so many overwhelming instances of the bad.

He felt a swell of affection as he met her eyes and hesitated as silence fell between them. He wanted desperately to lean down and kiss her, but his heart raced as her gaze bore into him and he suddenly felt nervous. They hadn’t seen each other in three years. They had exchanged letters since, and he still found comfort thinking about every moment they’d shared together. Even with their time apart, they hadn’t grown apart. It was reassuring, yet it felt presumptuous to think they could just pick up where they left off. 

“I, ah…” he started and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Don’t hold back now,” Serenity said softly.

“Maker’s breath, I… I’ve forgotten how to talk to you,” he muttered. Didn’t he have a question to ask her? He couldn’t remember it now. He was about to admit he wanted to kiss her, but it felt embarrassing just to formulate the words in his head. 

Serenity smiled fondly, “I’ve missed you, Cullen.” 

She was waiting. His heart skipped a beat as he leaned down to kiss her and drew her closer with his hand against the small of her back. He felt the tension leave his shoulders when the weight of her arms wrapped around his neck and the softness of her lips pressed against his. He knew it was foolish to fear rejection when she had come so far to find him again, but it was still there. He still worried that her feelings might change, especially after all that he confessed to. 

“Was that… okay? I wasn’t sure if… after so much time apart, it would feel like starting over,” he said softly. 

“Better than okay,” she answered, tousling the hair at the nape of his neck with her fingertips. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since I was seventeen, so if that’s what starting over feels like, it feels the same to me.”

“You are the only person I’ve ever… wanted to kiss,” Cullen admitted and reluctantly pulled away from her. “Before I go, there is something I wanted to ask of you.”

“Anything,” Serenity said. 

“Can you tell me more about Ser Otto, the knight you met in Denerim?” he asked. 

Serenity smiled, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter: Amber Run - I Found, Kim Taylor - Build You Up


	26. Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Fade sequence! The Fade may be disorienting, but Serenity embraces the opportunity to learn more about the Gallows through the spirits and demons in the realm of dreams.

Serenity walked aimlessly through the streets of Lowtown, avoiding the burnt wreckage of buildings as she stepped over the lifeless bodies of famished slaves. She didn’t know Kirkwall well, but she recognized the street outside the Hanged Man and the rusted abatis that lined the winding paths and staircases. As she descended the steps towards Darktown, she noticed the city was seeped in blood and reeking of despair. Even the salt spray blowing in from the sea tasted like copper and iron. For a moment, she wondered if the Qunari had returned with a new Arishok, but as quickly as the question popped into her head, it was gone.

Darktown was a sea of corpses, entangled limbs and headless torsos piled so high, they became the mud beneath them. The smell of decomposition overwhelmed the smell of feces in the sewers, but Serenity walked across the path of the dead in search of Anders’ lanterns. Every dazed step she took caused her to right herself so she didn’t fall off balance and become another colorless husk. When she reached solid ground and turned to look behind her, she expected a Harvester to rise from the grey and tear her limb from limb to augment its own size and strength. But the bodies she had seen so vividly, smelled so strongly, and felt give beneath her feet were gone. 

_'Who were they?'_

Voices disrupted her concentration before she could guess an answer to the fleeting question. 

_'This is one of the ways in,'_ a young woman said, leading two men behind her towards a hatch hidden beneath a staircase. _'Our contact arranged for three mages to meet us. If we don’t save them, they’re going to be made Tranquil.'_

_'The Mage Underground,'_ Serenity thought. 

_'You’re still an apprentice,'_ the young woman said, _'but we could use the help from someone who knows the Circle well.'_

_'I'm an apprentice?'_ Serenity asked, confused. She was almost certain she had passed her Harrowing, but as she looked down, she recognized the blue and violet brocade that had been hemmed to reach her ankles. 

_'Come with us',_ the young woman said and opened the hatch so the others could climb down before her. 

Serenity followed, accepting her surroundings and the suggestion of the nameless woman in front of her. She had no staff to fight with and hung back behind the others armed with daggers and bows as they traversed the winding tunnels to the Gallows. The tunnels had been mined and the walls reinforced, but areas where water dripped through made her wonder how close the passageway was to collapsing and whether they would all drown if she were to cast a spell. 

_'The templars routinely take mages, even untested apprentices, in for questioning,'_ the woman explained. _'They make accusations and they don’t relent until they have answers. Some of them escape just long enough to beg for their lives, and then they’re dragged back inside. One such mage came to me. She did not want to give them the satisfaction of finding their accusations proven true, so she killed herself.'_

_'This is it,'_ the young man with the bow said. _'This is where they’re supposed to meet us, isn’t it?'_

Serenity turned at the familiar sound of plate as templars poured in from different unseen doorways to block their exit and surround them. 

_'By the order of the Knight-Commander, you are under arrest,'_ the Knight-Lieutenant announced. 

_'To be tortured like your mages? We refuse!'_

Panicked, Serenity cast a force field around herself and squeezed her eyes shut as the templars cut down the three sympathizers from the Underground. She listened to the scrape of metal, the heavy footfalls of the templars moving around her, and the agonized cries of the cloth-armored rogues that had tried to infiltrate the Gallows. When her force field fell and she opened her eyes, only Alrik stood before her. 

_'Newly a mage and already flouting the rules of the Circle,'_ Alrik said, wrapping his hand around her throat. _'You know what happens to mages that break the rules?'_

Serenity felt constricted, unable to move her wrists above her head and unable to breathe as his hand squeezed. Her thoughts were muddled together, unable to word a plea for mercy or a spell to save her. 

_'You must show penance,'_ Alrik said. _'I can cleanse you with righteous fire or you can become mine. When you are Tranquil, you won’t feel sadness or embarrassment. You will obey me and there will be no escape. Only the peace I provide you.'_

Serenity felt the creep of fear crawl under her skin before the searing burn of Righteous Smite blinded and deafened her to her thoughts and the world around her. All she could feel was powerless and devoid of hope. She was at his mercy—and he offered none. 

_'You helped a blood mage escape. You are a danger to all of us. I will not see you go unpunished,'_ Alrik growled. _'I want to hear you cry. Beg the Maker for forgiveness.'_

_'Greagoir,'_ Serenity remembered, breathing hard. _'Duncan took me away before he could see me punished.'_

_'You will repent!'_ Alrik shouted. 

Serenity realized he hadn’t silenced her and quickly cast a force field around him before looking down at her hands, no longer bound by whatever shackles she thought had held her. 

_'This is a dream… a nightmare,'_ she thought, orienting herself to the Fade as the illusion dwindled and she recognized the sickly yellow-green light that emanated from the ground and walls. She forged a staff from her will, the Spellfury she knew so well. _'What are you?'_

_'I am your keeper, mage,'_ Alrik answered and drew his sword. 

She knew he was only a reflection of a memory, an amalgamation of her fears wearing his face. She didn’t know if it was a demon behind the mask, but Hand of Winter and Crushing Prison were enough to make him fall. She flinched when she felt the sting of a lightning bolt at her back and turned to dispatch a wisp behind her.

She felt different here than she ever had before. During her Harrowing, she hadn’t felt any underlying emotion permeating the very ground she walked on. When she traversed the Sloth’s domain, she faced memories rather than feelings. Instead of feeding on particular emotions, Sloth had only intended to distract his victims long enough to drain their life force. Here, however, in the Gallows, she felt like she was wading through quicksand, losing hope and the strength to fight. She had felt it even before she fell asleep, aware of the heaviness that hung in the air at the Circle.

_'Something is perpetuating this feeling,'_ she thought and remembered Mouse’s commentary on the templars during her Harrowing. Demons feed on the dark parts of the mind. _'What feeds here?'_

As she pressed forward and entered a shimmering portal, she stepped through the Fade and found herself in a corridor so long, she couldn’t see the wall at the other end, only darkness. 

_'Mouse! Where are you when I need you?'_

Serenity immediately regretted drawing attention to herself. If she were still dreaming unaware, she would have been harder to see, like looking through glass. But lucid, she became a beacon, bright and solid. 

The demon that emerged from the wall and clawed through the air towards her was unlike any she had ever seen before. She stumbled back through the portal and held her staff out in front of her as her heart pounded in her ears and the snarling creature lunged through in pursuit. She quickly froze it with Winter’s Grasp and activated her Repulsion Field and Arcane Shield, having no idea just how strong it was. She cast a barrage of spells as the ice broke and its hood fell back as it unhinged its maw to bear rows upon rows of teeth. 

She had faced Hunger demons before in the Ferelden Circle and had seen pictorial depictions in the Circle’s texts. This was something else entirely. Although she felt terror upon seeing it up close, she didn’t think it was a terror demon. She had only ever faced fearlings, but the creature’s draining aura made her want to give up the fight as strongly as Sloth made her want to fall asleep. 

In a desperate attempt to end the fight before the demon could overpower her, she forged a sword out of spirit energy resembling the one she had slain the Archdemon with and drove it through the demon’s middle. The feeling of despair dissipated as it crumpled to the ground, buried under its cloak like a shadow. With the end of her sword, she lifted the fabric to examine the demon closely. 

_'You’re an ugly one,'_ she thought, reminded of a mangy, hairless rat one might find in the sewer. Of all the demons she had yet faced, this one was the most terrifying. It made her feel weak. 

When she stepped through the translucent portal again, she quickly shapeshifted into a mouse and scurried along the wall down the hallway to avoid detection. She heard voices as she passed the open doors to cells. Most were occupied by mages, though some held templars and others demons like the one she had killed. She was certain she was in the mages’ quarters, but she wasn’t sure whether the mages she saw were dreamers or simply reflections of their memories. 

She had given a lot of thought to what she found in Sloth’s domain and her experience in Blackmarsh when the First forced her into the Fade. The ghosts trapped by the Baroness were still sentient even though they were long dead. The girl that tried to trick her had been an abomination. Before meeting her, Serenity would have thought that demons and their human hosts separated after death. Or, was that spirit simply reflecting the memory of their former host and taking her shape to manipulate? Considering the nature of the abomination she’d killed in that cellar in the Fade gave her something else to worry about in regards to Anders and a new theory about her friend, Mouse. It also gave her more to fear about possession—a permanent loss of her sense of self. 

_'If you speak a word of this, I’ll see you peddling enchantments in the courtyard with the rest of those dead-eyed robes.'_

_'I promise I won’t. I haven’t said a thing!'_

Serenity stopped outside the closed door leading to the cell with the man’s voice on the other side. She couldn’t let whatever demon fed on these nightmares continue reflecting a mage’s worst memories. She took her own shape before opening the door and casting Winter’s Grasp on the templar, followed by Crushing Prison and an Arcane Bolt. 

_'Oh, Maker! What have you done!?'_ the young mage panicked and ran to the corner of the room. _'They’re going to think I did this! They’re going to kill me!'_

_'Calm down,'_ Serenity said, certain that templar was a demon just like the one she’d killed before. Once it was dead, the feeling in the room dissipated. _'Do you feel that? It’s gone now.'_

_'I… I don’t understand,'_ he said, confused. 

_'It’s time to wake up,'_ she answered. 

Funny how effectively those words did just as she intended them to, just as they did when Feynriel spoke them to her. She noticed where the mage had been standing, there was a spirit door, almost indiscernible against the rippling walls. She shifted into the Spirit form and entered through the luminescent portal. On the other side, rows of fire blocked her path and the choked screams and throaty growls of the freshly possessed drew closer to her through the flames. 

She transformed into the Burning Man and swung her sword at the nearest abomination before switching back so she could cast Cone of Cold. Rage was weak enough to be dispatched with the single spell, but the abominations required a little more. She changed back, able to throw a Fireball between them that killed them both. It was strange for the shape to come so easily but the spell, without it, was too difficult to remember. She didn’t dwell on it though, reminded of Morrigan’s affinity for shapeshifting and how she had abilities she couldn’t perform otherwise. 

In the Fade, changing shape came more easily than Serenity thought it would. Mouse told her it would take years to forget what she was and release her human form, yet she had managed not only to learn the shape of the mouse but of several others only a few months after her Harrowing—and all in the matter of hours. In the physical realm, however, she couldn’t possibly master the specialization. She didn’t trust herself enough to do it. What if she couldn’t change back? 

She could practically hear Morrigan laughing in her ear at the thought. She knew it wasn’t really all that different. Magic, whether you are in the Fade or in the waking world, still comes from the same place. If she truly tried, she might be able to take the shapes in the physical realm. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun in the Fade. She could make a lot of money in the Hinterlands, chasing off bandits as a bear.

As she wandered the library and took a mouse hole into another section of the Gallows, she wondered if she could find Cullen. It wasn’t as if she could influence his dreams, but what would she see if the spirits in the Circle reflected his sleeping thoughts? Would she find herself back in Kinloch Hold or would she find him whipping a mage in the courtyard? 

She wasn’t sure whether the next mouse hole she went through led to the same hallway she had just left. The Circle was a maze at least twice the size of Kinloch Hold, but all the floors and walls looked the same, and in the Fade, she couldn’t navigate and memorize the portals, spirit doors, and tiny tunnels if she were comatose for a week. It was too disorienting. 

_'You betray the Order with your sympathies for these mages! You will face the wrath of the Maker, brother!'_

Serenity took her form back as she opened the door to see two burning templars, accompanied by rage demons, draw their swords against each other. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing but guessed it was a dream orchestrated by Rage to feed on the anger of the sleeping templars. She quickly stepped in and cast Cone of Cold on the demons before stunning the templars with Mind Blast and waking them with Hand of Winter. 

As she returned to the hallway, the floors and walls were engulfed in flame. She became the Burning Man as blood mages clashed with burning templars in the wide corridor. They were more interested in each other than they were with her, but after passing through the flames, she turned and summoned a Hurricane. She left the storm to wake the dreamers and dispel the rage demons as she made her way through another mouse hole. 

_'Despair,'_ she thought, choking on how thick the air felt in the next room. The shrill cries from the mage stretched upon the rack made her stomach turn. _'Is this a memory? Is this how they torture mages?'_

_'Your friend became an abomination,'_ the templar said. _'She was a blood mage! Who else is practicing blood magic?'_

_'I don’t know, I swear it—please! I beg you, let me go!'_

_'If you hadn’t tried to escape, we might have shown you mercy, apostate. But you can’t be trusted any more than your maleficar friends.'_

Serenity wondered if the mage was the dreamer or if it was the templar. If the mage still lived, it seemed an obvious answer, but she couldn’t be sure the templar wasn’t tortured either. He spoke with conviction, but he was still human—wasn’t he? How could one walk away from committing such a violent act and not be scarred by it?

_'We can end this now if you would just confess,'_ he said. _'The Knight-Commander is right next door. Turn over your friends, and she’ll have you seen to by a healer.'_

_'I know nothing! Please--'_

When she heard the crack of bone, Serenity shifted back so she could put an end to the nightmare. She knew she wasn’t truly stopping it—it had already happened. She wondered how it ended, but she couldn’t continue to bear witness to the torture. It reminded her of Rendon Howe’s dungeon under Fort Drakon and the fate that awaited her had Sten and M.C. not arrived. She tried not to think about what would have happened not only to her but to Alistair. She had heard him cry out in pain before and nothing hurt her more. If there was anything that could make her resort to blood magic or self-sacrifice, it was seeing someone she loved tortured. 

She chose not to follow the mouse hole beneath the rack and returned to the corridor so she could walk through the violet portal at the end. 

_'Maker preserve me,'_ Serenity thought. _'Where am I now?'_

She had expected she might stumble across the courtyard somehow, but she felt like she was back in the belly of the tower. Glancing out the window, she knew she had to be on one of the higher floors. She couldn’t see any of the adjacent buildings and hardly knew what to make of the raw Fade in the distance, but she recognized the Black City in the sky. 

She hadn’t encountered a single Desire demon yet and thought it might have had to do with Despair. What could one wish for when they had no hope? Some still reached for freedom, but it wasn’t Desire that fed on their determination--it was Rage. 

She thought she might have been in an area utilized for training, but the furniture on the ceiling and walls did nothing to paint a cohesive picture. She saw the spirit door above her and stared at it. 

_'How in Andraste’s name am I supposed to get up there?'_

She thought about stacking furniture and climbing up, but that wouldn’t work. She wondered if she could teach herself a new shape—a crow, perhaps. Morrigan had said it was one of the easier shapes to learn. But it wasn’t actually that easy. All of her knowledge had been bestowed on her, transferred through a telepathic connection like she had with the Arcane Warrior. 

A mouse hole caught her eye in the corner of the ceiling and she searched the floor before shifting into a mouse and diving into the hole. When she came out through the other end, it didn’t feel like she was upside down, but she didn’t dare look up, afraid she would remember what was now the ceiling was the floor a moment before—and then gravity would pull her back down. 

She opened the spirit door and found herself on a staircase with a locked door. She took the shape of the golem and dug into the ground with her fingers to manifest a boulder and lobbed it at the door to break through. She realized afterwards that it might have been locked for a reason. Was she letting something into the tower? A greater despair demon, maybe? 

She knew it was her responsibility to face whatever lie behind that door. She could wake up now and leave safely, but she didn’t know how much damage it could do before she had a chance to warn First Enchanter Orsino about her little escapade and how she might have been overzealous. She really didn’t want anyone filing a complaint with the First Warden on account of their Ferelden Commander letting demons loose within the tower by accident. Or, worse, the Knight-Commander seeing to it that she face retribution for her reckless behavior.

_'What was I thinking…? I hope this demon isn’t a bigger pain in the ass than Sloth was,'_ she thought. Sloth might have made her tired, but once she was in the Fade, his power over her was useless. Despair, however, still affected her in her sleep, even when she was lucid. 

She took the form of a mouse as she traversed the raw Fade and stopped when she heard voices. 

_'If you’re truly a mage killed by the templars, why aren’t there more mages here? Why only you?'_ the girl asked, crossing her arms. 

Mouse sighed, _'I don’t know. I can’t remember. Do so many mages fail their Harrowing and die in this chamber that you expect a welcoming party?'_

_'Enough fail that the templars talk about it,'_ the girl answered apprehensively. _'Why don’t you just move on?'_

_'How am I supposed to do that, exactly?'_ Mouse asked, annoyed. _'Should I just cease to exist? That isn’t a fair choice.'_

_'Why are you asking me? I’m no necromancer,'_ she retorted. _'You’d be the expert on ghosts, seeing as you are one.'_

_'You need to stay focused,'_ Mouse warned her. _'While you waste time sassing me, you could be preparing yourself to face the creature they’ve summoned here to possess you. If you take too long—'_

_'They’ll kill me,'_ she interrupted. _'I know. If you’re here haunting the Harrowing chamber, then you can tell me more about this demon I’m supposed to face, can’t you?'_

_'I’m not personally acquainted with the thing,'_ he chided her. _'Surely they taught you something about the spirits and creatures of the Fade before sending you into it. I know they like you to be unprepared, but you’ve at least read a book about it, haven’t you?'_

_'Of course I’ve read books about it,'_ she answered. _'To pass my test, I have to kill a demon? Then, I suppose it couldn’t be the same demon summoned for every Harrowing. But it might be of the same kind.'_

_'It may be. This barbaric ritual is unpredictable,'_ Mouse warned her. _'They lure the creatures here, teasing them with the promise of a body, and trap them, but there’s no telling what might have come through.'_

_'Are you saying I might have to fight something I can’t win against?'_

_'I only advise you to be cautious,'_ he said. _'There aren’t only demons in the Fade. There are other spirits here. If your will is strong enough on its own, you may not need their help. But they can lend you their strengths and teach you if you’re open to it.'_

_'That sounds like demon talk,'_ she said dismissively. _'Stop following me.'_

Serenity watched Mouse curiously, noticing the tension he carried in his shoulders as he remained where the apprentice left him. No doubt waiting for her to return and ask him for help. He was too proud to follow after her now and too proud not to wait for her to come back. 

She shifted from her mouse form behind him and playfully caught him around his waist to startle him. It surprised her when it had the intended effect and he jumped. 

_'Fancy meeting you here,'_ Serenity said and smiled. 

_'What—how did you get in here?!'_ Mouse asked, looking past her at the open portal that wasn’t there earlier. _'Huh. You broke into the Harrowing chamber. Well done.'_

_'I had no idea where I was,'_ she admitted. _'I thought I was going to unleash some horrible demon on the Circle. But then I find you. Working another apprentice, I see.'_

_'She’s not as good as you were,'_ Mouse smiled. _'Not as amicable either.'_

_'Did she hurt your feelings when she called you out?'_ Serenity teased. 

Mouse scoffed, crossing his arms, _'Her distrust may serve its purpose here, but she could gain so much more if she had the courage to think for herself. There is no call to be rude. Maybe I should scare her. If she doesn’t want a lesson on the Fade, I could teach her a lesson about manners.'_

_'I thought you wanted her to pass her test,'_ Serenity reminded him. _'You wouldn’t have her fail because she told you to stop haunting her, would you?'_

_'Of course I want her to pass,'_ Mouse sighed. _'But giving her a little scare won’t kill her.'_

_'It might,'_ Serenity argued. _'The door is open, remember? Her fear could draw in something more sinister.'_

_'You should have seen the look on your face when I scared you,'_ Mouse said, subduing a chuckle. 

Serenity could hear how proud he was of himself, but she couldn’t deny he’d made quite the impression on her. Her Harrowing served as one of her most valuable lessons because he was there. _'I faced something else in this Circle I’ve never seen before,'_ she said. _'With so many teeth.'_

_'This place is rife with despair demons, and they never go hungry. Some of them dig deeper, beyond the dreamers that rest here, to feed on the spilled blood of the slaves that died.'_

_'Are they driving the mages toward blood magic?'_ she asked. 

_'Suicide, more likely,'_ he answered. _'If they want to possess somebody, they don’t know how to ask.'_

_'I believe a lot of what you’ve told me since my Harrowing, even if you were playing an angle,'_ Serenity said. _'I have a theory about who you are, Mouse.'_

_'Really?'_ Mouse asked, sounding both curious and skeptical. _'You don’t think me a liar, spinning a tale to manipulate you?'_

_'Oh, I know you're manipulative,'_ Serenity said, _'but I also remember you chastising me for my compassion after you told me how you died.'_

_'What do you think you know? Where I came from? What I was called?'_ he asked. 

_'Nothing so specific as that,'_ she answered. _'I think you were a spirit of Wisdom. I don’t know how, but I think you possessed Mouse. Maybe you didn’t even mean to. Maybe he was a spirit healer that called on you for help. But you became corrupted, and when Mouse was slain by the templars for being an abomination, you retained all of his memories because you shared his body and spirit.'_

Mouse was quiet, considering her idea about the nature of his existence. _'You may be right, but there is no way for me to know,'_ he said. _'I can’t remember who I am or what I was. I am only Mouse now and the creature the Fade has made me.'_

_'If you possess somebody else, you will lose what makes you you,'_ she said. _'And I will lose what makes me me.'_

Mouse chuckled, _'You’re trying to talk your way out of our deal.'_

_'Just think about it,'_ she urged. _'I know you want to remember what it’s like to be human, but once my body dies, we’ll be back here and our conversations won’t be nearly as much fun. You’ll be wandering the Fade trying to remember who I am.'_

_'Stop it,'_ Mouse said sharply. It almost sounded like the idea scared him... or at least made him uneasy. 

The apprentice from earlier emerged from over the hill in the distance and walked towards them with trepidation. _'Who are you?'_ she asked, examining Serenity closely. She looked as real as Mouse did.

_'I’m a mage that passed my Harrowing,'_ Serenity told her. _'I stumbled into yours by accident.'_

_'You expect me to believe that?'_ she asked incredulously. _'Mages don’t just stumble into Harrowings. These are guarded rituals. It takes copious amounts of lyrium and at least a half dozen mages to even make the ritual possible.'_

Serenity thought Mouse looked far too pleased with himself to see her on the receiving end of the apprentice’s cheekiness. _'You don’t have to believe me,'_ Serenity said. _'I came in through that portal behind me. It leads out of the Harrowing chamber. If you want to cheat on your test, walk through it and wake up.'_

_'Cheat the Harrowing? Are you mad?'_ she asked. _'It’s never been done. You are probably trying to lead me to my death.'_

Mouse sighed, _'What do you want, apprentice? You are wasting your precious little time.'_

_'I can’t find a weapon,'_ she admitted. _'I found the Desire demon. I didn’t want to get too close, lest she speak and try to sway me.'_

Serenity offered the apprentice her sword and said, _'You can use mine.'_

The apprentice looked down at the sword and hesitated, _'I… I’ve only ever used a staff.'_

Serenity forged a staff from her will and offered it to her instead. _'Off you go now.'_

_'How…? How did you do that?'_

_'With practice,'_ she answered. _'We’re in the realm of dreams, remember. Let’s keep my presence here between us though.'_

The apprentice examined the staff forged of light and said, _'I’m taking this, but I still don’t trust you. Keep this between us? Sounds like demon talk.'_

_'I’m not a demon,'_ Serenity said indignantly and pointed at Mouse with her thumb. _'He is, though.'_

_'Don’t—'_ Mouse groaned and facepalmed. 

The apprentice stared at them both, dumbfounded, before slowly backing away with the questionable staff in her hands. It felt real enough. _'Why are you helping me, demon?'_

_'Fuck them, that’s why,'_ Mouse growled. _'The Circle, the templars, their hypocritical test and their empty promises resulting in needless death. The spirits that long to experience the other side want to feel more than the sword at their neck.'_

The apprentice didn’t turn away from them until she thought she was safely out of reach—and then she ran. 

_'Poor thing,'_ Serenity thought. 

_'There is a time for honesty,'_ Mouse scolded her. _'That wasn’t it.'_

_'She’ll be fine,'_ Serenity said. _'Or do you think we should follow her? Should I kill the demon for her? It’s not as if anyone else is watching.'_

_'That depends,'_ Mouse said. _'Do you agree with the Circle’s methods of judgment and control? Do you think it’s fair to pit an apprentice against a demon in the Fade where anything can slip into the dream?'_

_'No, I don’t. But as long as she’s here, it might do her well to slay a demon or two,'_ Serenity said. _'I would think most mages wouldn’t ever have to face one, but in this place?'_

_'She will face many more in this place,'_ Mouse agreed. _'I remember when you had to beg that spirit of Valor to provide for you and now you’re providing for others. You’ve come a long way... I’m impressed.'_

_'Now, if only I could find a Sloth demon to teach me how to change into a bear,'_ she said.

_'I can teach you,'_ Mouse offered. _'But I want you to answer a riddle for me first.'_

_'You're joking, right? I already answered three so that sloth demon would teach you,'_ Serenity reminded him. 

_'Humor me,'_ Mouse smirked. _'What can be swallowed but can also swallow you?'_

Serenity thought about it for a moment and answered, _'A really big snake.'_

_'Are you serious?'_ Mouse scoffed disappointedly. _'You would be dead right now if I didn’t like you. I’ve been waiting for years to ask that one. The worst part is your stupid answer isn't technically wrong.'_

Serenity laughed, _'It’s pride, isn’t it?'_

_'Yes, it’s pride,'_ he muttered. 

She nearly asked if he was sulking, but she knew it would anger him to tease him so. _'Do you want to stay here? Or would you like to follow me through that door?'_

He reached out to share his knowledge of the bear form with her and answered, _'I’ll come with you. If you’re going to continue exploring this place, demons are going to try to possess you. I can’t have that, now, can I?'_

She wondered if it was his pride or his friendship that motivated him to protect her. She knew it went against every teaching to befriend a demon. But she had already made her deal. She regretted it now, even if it was decades away from consummation. Her secrets weighed on her—there was no one she could tell. It was a burden she had to carry alone, knowing anyone she confessed to would look upon her differently—with disappointment or distrust, maybe? Although it was against her better judgment to make a demon her confidant, she knew she could tell Mouse anything without fear of repercussions. 

She wasn’t sure if there was any way to cure Mouse of his corruption, though that would be an ideal solution for both of them. Tevinter magisters had spilled the blood of thousands in their failed attempts to map the Fade, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they spilled thousands more in their studies of demonology. But considering there was not yet a cure for abominations, she doubted there was any way to save a demon from itself. Her guess about what he was was still only conjecture. She knew nothing of the mage she thought he possessed, but he reminded her of Anders and Wynne. Sometimes he seemed more human than creature of the Fade. 

When he first revealed himself to be Pride, she thought her whole Harrowing a manipulation—and then she remembered that he had let her go when he could easily have overpowered her. He knew her world well enough to have lived and died in it before. He had never answered her questions with surety, rather guessing at his prior existence, but the anger he felt about the Circle and the templars seemed genuine, whether it was caused by injustices he was subjected to himself or the memories he had seen reflected by dreamers. Did the Fade change him as he purported to believe, or was he a creature of the Fade first? 

Whether it was simply a tactic for manipulation or to cling to remnants of a sense of self, Pride still appeared as Mouse when they found each other in the Fade. She wondered if Anders would suffer the same fate, wandering the Fade with only fragments of himself to try to piece together his identity. She thought before that Justice would be restored if he died in the physical realm, but considering Anders slept and their melded spirit crossed the veil each night, she was almost certain that would not happen. Justice was no more. Neither was Anders as she once knew him. Would he, like Mouse, always be reaching for something more?

If Mouse had a better nature, she could only try to appeal to it and break down his resolve over years of their sustained interactions. She would not be like Anders, giving into compassion or empathy for a spirit’s will to live. If she had to, she would kill Mouse in the Fade before he could take her over. She didn’t want to, even knowing he was Pride. But she would not let their friendship compromise her autonomy. She had to safeguard her spirit. She would not lose herself—not to Tranquility, not to the Calling, and not to Pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to for this chapter: Ruelle - Deep End


	27. Blood Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity confronts Ser Karras when she finds him hunting down a mage in Darktown. She has no intention of letting him walk away.

Serenity felt like she’d hardly rested after how much time she spent lucidly dreaming the night before, but she accompanied Nathaniel to the chantry in Hightown with Mabari-Cullen.

“If you keep yawning, you’re going to choke on a fly,” Nathaniel said, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you sleep at all last night?” 

“In a way,” she answered, stifling another yawn. 

“That’s like saying ‘yes and no,’” he scoffed. “Are you sure you’re up for this? If you need to sleep—”

“Ugh, no more sleep,” she groaned. “I may have gotten carried away last night.” 

“Carried away…? Drinking?” he asked. “Or… something else? Elfroot? Lyrium?” 

“No," Serenity snorted. “I just had a really long, vivid dream where I argued with a Mouse and fought a bunch of hairless rat demons.” 

“That sounds like something your mind would come up with,” Nathaniel said without any real concern for what that might have meant on a deeper level. “Did you eat pickles before going to sleep? I seem to remember you having a dream about talking to your dog once. Only he had no idea what you were talking about.” 

“That was _one_ time,” she said, surprised he remembered that. In hindsight, she knew her dream hadn’t really been a visit from M.C. After all, he couldn’t speak the common tongue. When she asked him if he remembered their long, philosophical discussion on the deeper meaning behind the game of fetch, he’d just tilted his head and whined. 

“There isn’t a lot of work to be found here,” he said, lifting the papers pinned to the pillar. “If these have already been resolved, they should have taken them down.” 

“What about that one?” Serenity asked, pointing to the parchment with a cheese wheel on it. 

Nathaniel knew the picture would catch her eye and had hoped she wouldn’t ask about it. He didn’t know what the quest asked for, but if it had to do with cheese, his hands were going to smell awful. “They’re looking for a cheese thief,” he said. 

“Perfect,” Serenity said. “You know who would make the perfect duo for hunting down a cheese thief?" 

Nathaniel sighed, noticing how Mabari-Cullen’s tail started wagging. “Are you really going to delegate hunting down a cheese thief to me and your dog?”

“He has a better nose for it than I do,” she answered. “And, well, you’re a thief, so you can think like one.”

“Fine,” Nathaniel said, taking the cheese wheel off the wall. He would have argued in favor of another job—any other job—if there was one available. “I’ll go see the man that posted this first.” 

Serenity patted M.C. on his rump and said, “Follow Nate. You can find me at Anders’ clinic later when you’re done.” 

Serenity returned to Lowtown and found the entrance to Darktown, relieved to find the derelict mine in a better state than she dreamt it in. It was still hard to breathe through the chokedamp, but at least she could see the ground and not a single corpse in sight—yet, anyway. As she descended a set of stairs, she realized she was turned around. The lanterns leading to Anders’ clinic weren’t where she thought she would find them. 

A voice she recognized on a landing below caught her attention and she peered over the edge of the top of the stairs to see his face.

  


“Halt! You can’t keep running, Alain,” the templar warned him.

“Leave me be!” Alain cried, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He was so tired. Tired of running, tired of conspiring, but most of all, tired of being trapped and treated like vermin.

“Or what?” he asked, drawing his sword as he walked over to him. “This is your third escape attempt. You got off easy the last two times. We already made another phylactery. Did you really think you could get away again?” 

“Please…” Alain whimpered, falling to his knees. 

He wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for. He knew as well as Karras did that his blood would lead the templars right to him. He didn’t have the aid of Ser Thrask this time, nor did he have the help of any other mages or even the Mage Underground. He had hoped he might at least make it outside Kirkwall, but he hadn’t even made it out of the undercity. He was going to die in the sewage and be left there to be eaten by rats. 

Karras chuckled, “I don’t know how you managed to talk your way out of an execution with the Knight-Commander, but your sad puppy eyes won’t work on me. How do you think it would look if we let a blood mage escape three times and live? It’s already shameful that you were shown mercy once.” 

  


Serenity descended the stairs with her staff in hand. “I know you,” she said, glaring at Karras. She didn’t know his name, but she knew what he did. She knew he was just like Otto Alrik. She wasn’t going to let him put his hands on this mage or any other ever again.

“A Grey Warden?” Karras asked, looking at the unmistakable tunic she wore. “No matter. You’d do well to mind your own business, Warden. You have no right to intervene in the affairs of the Circle and its templars.” 

“P-please, help me,” Alain begged, moving to stand. 

“Stay down,” Karras ordered, moving closer as he brandished his sword. When Serenity put herself between them, he shook his head. “You’re making a big mistake, Warden. If you aid this blood mage, I have no choice but to put you down with him.” 

“You’re a Knight-Lieutenant, aren’t you?” Serenity asked evenly, leaning down to pull Alain up to his feet. “One held in the highest regard by the Knight-Commander, no doubt.” 

“That’s right,” he answered. “If you don’t turn over that mage, I assure you the Knight-Commander will drive your order from the city. Return him and she’ll see you handsomely rewarded.” 

“I’m not letting you take him,” Serenity said and stepped back with her hand on Alain’s chest to keep him behind her. 

“He won’t stop hunting me,” Alain mumbled. “He’ll never let me go.” 

“I know,” Serenity said, casting a Force Field around Alain. 

“You may be a Grey Warden, but you’re still a mage!” Karras shouted and raised his hand up, casting Cleanse to remove any spells she might have cast upon herself. 

Serenity sidestepped and ran up the stairs to lead him away from Alain, but her body was wracked with a sharp pain that rattled her brain like a lightning bolt when Karras cast Staggering Smite. She stumbled on the steps, bruising her shins and knees, and turned to face him, holding up her hand as she struggled to focus on what was in front of her. The rise of fear, prickling under her skin, paralyzed her long enough to leave her vulnerable. She couldn't prevent the memory of Alrik's unnatural blue eyes from intruding on her thoughts and briefly instilling in her that familiar feeling of helplessness that she hated him for.

“I love when you mages try to run from me,” he grinned. He silenced her before she could focus and cast a spell, then he backhanded her, knocking her off balance so she fell from the stairwell and landed with a thud on the landing she’d tried to distance herself from. 

Serenity groaned softly as she rolled over onto her hands and knees, jarred by the blow across her face and the deep ache in her side from the fall. She didn’t have time to think, able to hear his heavy armored footfalls rushing towards her. The silence wore off. She took a breath and scrambled to her feet, turning to face him as she stumbled back and cast Winter’s Grasp to freeze him in place. But the lyrium in his blood built up a resistance to the elements, and she was startled by how quickly he broke free as he closed the distance between them. 

She activated her Combat Magic and her Fade Shroud in a heartbeat as he lunged forward, driving his sword through her middle. She was transparent and the sword went through her like she was made of air, but Karras cleansed her again before she had a chance to retreat. 

She hadn’t expected the fight to turn so quickly in his favor. She had rendered Alain immobile with her Force Field and knew it would wear off soon—but it was too late. As Karras withdrew his sword, she gasped and looked down to see the steel slicing through her, coated with her blood. She placed a shaky hand over the puncture wound and looked up at him. She wasn’t scared anymore. Even though she was closer to death now than she had ever been.

“You’re a monster,” she said and lifted her hand to stop him as he raised his sword again. She manipulated the blood within his veins, straining her fingers as she curled them into a tight fist. His blood boiled and hemorrhaged from every orifice as he stood rigid and convulsed, his voice a muffled gurgle caught in his throat as she drained his life to knit her wounds. His built-up resistance to magic could not withstand her willpower and the physical toll the blood magic took on his body. When she released him, he was dead. 

“You—you’re a blood mage,” Alain stammered fearfully. 

Serenity exhaled a slow, shaky breath as she pressed her hand against her stomach where the Knight-Lieutenant’s sword had pierced her. There was still a sting, but the deep ache was gone. 

“Only when I have to be,” she answered and looked back at him. “It’s not a path I encourage.” 

“I… I never wanted to learn blood magic,” Alain said quietly, “but Ser Karras wasn’t wrong. I never admitted to it and the Knight-Captain believed me when I said I didn’t practice blood magic like the others. But I did learn. I thought I had to. I still couldn’t… I couldn’t do what you did. Not even to save myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Serenity reassured him. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

“Isn’t it, though?” Alain asked. “I don’t feel like I’ve ever helped anybody, least of all myself.” 

“That’s not true,” she said, taking his hand. “You had the strength to stay silent when you wanted to speak up. You had the courage to run when you knew staying meant something worse.” 

“They’ll find me,” Alain lamented. “They sent him after me. They’ll think I killed him. They’ll know it was blood magic.” 

“They won’t know it was blood magic if they can’t find him,” she assured him and walked over to Karras’ body to search him. “I don’t think he was tracking you by your phylactery.” 

“That means they still have it,” Alain sighed.

“He said the Knight-Commander showed leniency with you,” she said, standing up. “What was he talking about?” 

“I… I was part of a group trying to organize an insurrection,” Alain answered. “They weren’t all blood mages. There were templars led by Ser Thrask. But they’re all… dead. No one made it out alive but me.” 

“Ser Thrask?” Serenity asked, her heart pounding. “Ser Thrask is dead?” 

Alain nodded, “Along with all the other dissenters. Grace wasn’t there for that, though. She was there for Hawke. She sacrificed Ser Thrask for her blood magic ritual, just to get petty revenge. The only reason I’m alive is because Hawke told the Knight-Captain I wasn’t party to her scheme.”

“The Knight-Captain?” Serenity asked. “What did Cullen do?” 

“I thought he was going to have me tortured when he ordered his men to take me in for questioning,” Alain answered. “The whole walk back to the Gallows, I thought I was marching towards a noose—if there would be anything left to hang me by. He came to speak to me himself after they threw me in the dungeon. I… I told him everything. Everything except the part where I had to let my blood to save Bethany. He escorted me to Meredith’s office and told me to tell her everything I told him. She wanted to make me Tranquil.” 

“But she didn’t,” Serenity said. “Because you ran?” 

“No,” Alain said, covering his face with his hands. “I’m so stupid.” 

“Why? What happened?” 

“Cullen urged her to show me mercy,” Alain answered. “They took my blood for a new phylactery and returned me to my cell. But when Karras passed by my cell and looked at me, I knew… I knew it wasn’t over for me. I knew there would be no mercy.”

“You can be free now,” she said, hoping his escape didn’t cause Cullen too much trouble. She imagined the Knight-Commander might blame him or question his judgment, especially when Ser Karras was assumed dead. Someday, she would have to tell him he wasn’t wrong about Alain. Or perhaps Alain could tell him himself. “Or you could return to the Circle and ask Cullen for help. You can confess to running away because you were scared. It has to mean something for you to go back of your own volition.” 

“He can’t help me,” Alain said, shaking his head. “I’ll just… run as far away as I can. I know they’ll catch up to me eventually, but at least with how things are going now, it might be a while before they do.”

“You can join me if you like,” Serenity offered. “The Grey Wardens could use a mage like you.” 

“A mage like me…? But I’m nothing special,” he said, lowering his gaze. 

“You’re a good person,” she said. “I haven’t seen what kind of magic you’ve studied, but that doesn’t matter. You’ve passed your Harrowing. That’s good enough for me. As long as you can kill darkspawn, you meet my standards. It’s up to you though. You can continue to run, but you had better hide your magic if you do. Don’t carry a staff with you. People will look at you with suspicion. They might even blame you for things you had nothing to do with. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been glared at when I walk into an inn or reported to the chantry in a small village I was passing through. It is only because I am a Grey Warden that I am able to walk about freely.” 

“Won’t taking me with you cause trouble for you?” Alain asked anxiously. “You’ve done so much to help me already. I don’t want the templars breaking down your door to drag me away.” 

“If you become a Grey Warden, they’ll no longer be able to track you,” Serenity said. “Anyone that tries to take you away will end up like Ser Karras.” 

Alain glanced past her at the Knight-Lieutenant and the pool of blood around his head. He hadn’t really given any thought to what his life would be like if he did escape the Circle. He had been taken to the Circle in Starkhaven at the age of six and didn’t know what the world outside was really like. But he would never get to live a normal life. He never expected he would, but he thought being nomadic, always moving and looking over his shoulder would be better than looking through bars. He had no idea what to expect from this new life he was offered, but he had to take it. He couldn’t go back to the Circle. 

“I’ll join you,” he decided. “I’ll become a Grey Warden. I don’t want to hurt people, but… darkspawn aren’t people, right?” 

“Most of them aren’t,” she said. “Wait for me at the Hanged Man. I doubt they’ll be sending more templars after you anytime soon. They probably think the Knight-Lieutenant has it handled.” 

As Alain left, she wondered if she should have asked him to help her cover up the body until she found someone to help her properly dispose of it. She couldn’t move him very far without help, but she needed to find Anders. She gripped Karras by his breastplate and dragged him into the corner before looking around. There was debris all over the place in the form of broken crates and rotten wood once used for support beams. She also saw a toppled mining cart that he been dismantled so there was only one wheel left on the rear axle. 

This is so stupid, she thought as she dragged the broken cart over on its side and pushed it towards the wall to block any passersby’ view of the templar. She picked up a broken crate and placed it over his head should anyone catch a glimpse of him from the stairs. It was a shoddy attempt to hide a body, but it was a temporary solution. She only needed him to remain hidden there for an hour, at most. If he was found, she had no doubt somebody would try to cash in on their discovery. But someone traveling to the Gallows and back would still allow her enough time to move him again.

He deserved to die, she thought to herself, a little surprised not to feel an ounce of remorse, even considering the method she used to killed him. The only tinge of regret came as worry that should his body be found by the templars, she would have caused more trouble for the mages in the Gallows, perhaps even enough for the Knight-Commander to enact the right of annulment. She didn’t want to be responsible for the death of a single innocent mage. 

Serenity climbed the stairs and backtracked until she found another path leading to the steps lined with lanterns and followed them into Anders’ clinic. She hadn’t expected to find Varric, Isabela, and Hawke seated around a table with him. 

“Just who I was looking for,” Serenity said, eyeing them all. Any one of them would do, really. She watched as Varric pressed his finger to his nose and exchanged looks with Isabela as she followed his lead. Anders was a little slower to catch on, but Hawke was completely oblivious until Serenity’s eyes settled on her.

“What?” Hawke asked and looked around the table at the others, noticing they’d all just signaled that they were ‘not it.’ “Oh, fuck all of you!” 

Varric laughed, “Whatever it is, it’s probably not that bad, Chuckles.” 

“I need help disposing of a body,” Serenity said. 

“Oh, it can’t be that simple,” Hawke said. “It's probably some ranking member of the Templar Order. I mean, what more could go wrong in Kirkwall? It's not like the templars and abundance of blood mages here are looking for a reason to murder each other or anything.”

“Oh, don’t get my hopes up,” Anders said. 

Serenity pursed her lips and averted her gaze towards the ceiling as she tried to think about how to word her confession. Her face said more than any carefully chosen words could. She cringed when Hawke threw her hands up in the air. “I’m not confirming or denying whether the body belongs to a templar, but he’s wearing very heavy armor, so maybe two of you want to come lend a hand?” 

Anders stood up. “Really? I’ll come with you.” 

“You're not shitting me, are you? By the maker,” Hawke sighed, tilting her head back. “Fuck it. I like you. Ordinarily I expect some kind of payment. Like gold or, you know, some random trinket that I may or may not resell.”

“What about puppies?” Serenity asked. “I brought my mabari with me and he has been whining for me to take him to Hightown just to pay your Petunia a visit.” 

“I do like puppies,” Hawke said. “Though I never thought I would ever receive payment in the form of getting my dog laid.”

“Anders can attest to the fact we Wardens aren't exactly rolling around naked on a pile of gold,” Serenity said. “I have to get creative. Who doesn't love puppies? M.C. is a good boy, the best boy.”

“You could roll around naked on something else,” Isabela chimed in. “Remember my offer back in Denerim? I know a way both of you could be rewarded.”

Serenity chuckled and looked at Hawke, surprised to see her shrug. “Uh, no, sorry.” 

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Rivaini,” Varric chuckled. “Frosty here has a thing for Curly.” 

“Which I’ll never understand,” Anders muttered. “She even named her dog after him.” 

“Oh, that’s so cute,” Isabela teased. “First the King of Ferelden, now the Knight-Captain? I think you have a type, sweet thing.” 

“You're kind of biased, Anders,” Hawke snorted. “Try picturing him in a robe, holding a big stick.” 

“I like picturing his big stick,” Isabela grinned. “Could do without the robe though. How big is it, Serenity? Can’t say I haven’t thought about it at least once.” 

“Wait,” Anders said. “We’re not talking about a staff now, are we?” 

Serenity felt the heat rise to her cheeks and said, “There is a dead body waiting to be moved. Can we go now?” 

Hawke chuckled and stood up to follow her. “So, where did you leave this body? I don't imagine you brought it with you. Please tell me you didn't.”

“This way,” she said.

Anders noticed as they were walking that there was blood on her robe. “Serenity, are you all right?” he asked, gently placing his hand against her lower back to see if the blood was dried. 

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I healed myself.” 

“You?” Anders asked, shocked. “You’ve actually taken the time to learn a healing spell?” 

“Not exactly,” she mumbled. 

“Ah.” He knew there were other methods for healing oneself and assumed she had learned Drain Life through the Entropy school of magic. 

“One of these days, I will,” she insisted as she led them down the steps to Karras’ body where it remained hidden behind the broken minecart with a crate over his head.

“Oh, thank the Maker you didn't toss him into the sewers,” Hawke said and stared at the crate on his head. She snorted as she tried to stifle a laugh. “I know I shouldn't be laughing, and it's kind of fucked up, but you really thought that would fool anybody?” 

“You’ll understand why when you take it off,” she warned her. 

“You really know how to keep a girl in suspense,” Hawke said and lifted the crate. “Oh. I remember this guy. He’s a dick. Or… was a dick.” She thought about it. “Nah, being dead doesn’t make him not a dick anymore.” 

“You used blood magic to kill him,” Anders said, recognizing the tell-tale hemorrhaging. 

“He didn’t leave me any choice,” Serenity said. 

“I know,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should melt him in a vat of hot oil. That's one way to hide blood magic.”

“Can you stop saying ‘blood magic’ out loud?” she whispered and noticed the stiffness in Hawke’s shoulders. “What are we going to do with him?” 

“There's an area where those Carta fucks used to dump their bodies before I kicked their asses out. No one ever goes down there,” Hawke said and pushed the minecart aside with her foot. She dragged Karras from the wall by his ankles and gestured with her chin for the other two to lift the heavier end. “This way. You’re buying me a drink when we’re done.” 

“I think I can swing that,” Serenity said, grateful Hawke didn’t decide to walk away after seeing how he’d died. 

Never in her life did Serenity imagine she would be shoulder to shoulder with Anders, carrying the body of a dead templar to be disposed of. She remembered ruefully how she’d already aided him in killing three others in the city of Amaranthine. But that had been in his defense, after her attempts at diplomacy were rebuffed. They had just left their bodies there to be discovered so they could receive proper funeral rites. This was different. She couldn’t blame Anders or even Karras for this. This murder was on her. 

“I wonder what Zevran would say,” Serenity mumbled. “He would have jumped at the opportunity to help me hide a body. Probably would have suggested it was our first date.” 

”He would probably also suggest going through the armor to look for any hidden pouches of money,” Hawke suggested. 

“I checked him for a phylactery,” she said. “I didn’t find any money while I was poking around, but you’re welcome to give him another look. Templars aren't known to be rich either.”

“Yeah, but this one struck me as the type to have dirty side dealings.”

“I’m sure he did,” she said, following Hawke down another path leading near the sewers. She scrunched her nose as she tried to breathe through her mouth, and her eyes watered from the noxious fumes. “Maybe not the kind that produces gold, however.” 

“Here,” Hawke announced, dropping his feet. “Help me get his armor off him.” 

Anders kept Karras upright while they went to dismantling his breastplate, gauntlets, and all the attached belts holding it together. “Never thought you’d be one to find yourself in this kind of mess,” he admitted and tossed a pouch of money over to Hawke he found nestled behind the tasset.

“You should’ve seen the trouble I got myself into last night,” she said and shook her head when he looked at her. She was not about to rehash her encounter with Mouse. She knew the diatribe that would elicit from Anders—and she’d deserve to hear it too. She knew she couldn’t trust a demon, even one that told the truth. 

Once they had Karras’ armor off him, including the greaves covering his boots, Hawke said, “Stand back.” She hardly got the words out before Anders lit up the body with a fireball. “So, how about that drink?” 

“I’ve got a stash of dwarven ale at the clinic,” Anders said and started walking back.


	28. Unconditional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After helping Serenity dispose of a body, Hawke talks with her about blood magic and the cost of fame. Anders tries to convince Serenity to let him go.

“Anders,” Serenity said, jogging to catch up to him on their way back to his clinic. “Nate said he met you and Hawke in the Primeval thaig. Something about red lyrium?”

“We told him to stay away from it,” Hawke said, hoping he took her advice. “He didn’t give you anything, did he?” 

“No,” she answered. “I’m going to advise Stroud not to go down there either should the First Warden try to send him next.” 

“Good,” Hawke scoffed. “You Wardens have already caused me enough grief as it is.”

“What do you mean?” Serenity asked. 

“Well, I found out the Carta thugs that kept fucking with me were after me because of you guys,” she answered. “After your order coerced my father into taking part in some blood magic ritual.”

“I, ah… I think you’re going to have to fill me in a little more,” Serenity sighed, trying to wrap her head around the allegations. Without the imminent threat of an Archdemon, what purpose would the Wardens have for a blood magic ritual or involvement with the Carta? Did it have something to do with Stroud's investigation? 

“We met another talking darkspawn,” Anders warned her. “Like the Architect.”

“The Wardens had him in a prison,” Hawke explained. “One they locked him in centuries ago and then guarded themselves—but get this. He could influence the minds of Wardens. You’d think they would have the foresight to hire someone he couldn’t control.” 

“Maker preserve me,” Serenity said, stopping in her tracks. “The Wardens at Weisshaupt knew about this and told me nothing about it. Stroud told me more, but even he didn't know that much.” 

“I’ve heard your order likes to keep secrets,” Hawke said. “I guess they like to keep secrets even from each other. The carta was after me for my blood, to unlock the seals my father reinforced with his.”

“I heard Corypheus’ voice as we descended into the prison,” Anders said uneasily as he turned to face her. “He was trying to command me, but it wasn’t only his voice. The incessant whispers were scratching inside my skull. I could hardly hear myself think.” 

“I had to knock some sense into him.Whatever Corypheus did, it made Justice lose his shit,” Hawke said, slapping the back of Anders’ shoulder. “Not a side of you I ever want to see again.” 

Anders sighed, “We met the former Warden-Commander of the Free Marches, Larius. He went underground to answer his Calling, but he hadn’t died yet and he was still coherent.” 

“Barely. He was the one that sealed Corypheus away with my father’s help,” Hawke said, crossing her arms. “He was the only one who still had any sense about him, despite how he hobbled around like a ghoul. As long as the seals were too weak to uphold, he wanted to tear them down and kill the darkspawn before he could wake up and wreak havoc. The other Wardens, led by Janeka, wanted to free him so she could use him.”

Serenity rolled her eyes in exasperation at the hubris of the blood mage. She knew the ancient magisters were capable of magic that even demons couldn’t dream of. The darkspawn had untapped knowledge and power that ordinary blood magic could not match—not without great sacrifice. “But you opened the seals, rather than reinforcing them? That’s what they wanted you to do.” 

“What was I supposed to do?” Hawke shrugged, pushing the door to Anders’ clinic open. “Let his goons keep hunting me for the rest of my life? When I have a problem, I kill it.”

“But you are not a Grey Warden.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize only Grey Wardens are allowed to kill darkspawn,” Hawke scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m not a blood mage. I wouldn’t know a damn thing about reinforcing the seals. But I do know a thing or two about killing darkspawn. That thing needed to die. It’s dead. You’re welcome.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Serenity said. It should have been a relief to hear the magister was dead. Why did she have such a bad feeling in her gut? 

“Did you want the glory of slaying the talking darkspawn all to yourself?” Hawke asked. “All I got out of it was this ugly sword.” 

“Of course not,” Serenity sighed. “If Anders had landed the killing blow, I wouldn’t be worried.” 

“I can assure you, I know when something is dead,” Hawke said. 

“Mom, Dad, please stop fighting,” Varric sighed. “It’s making us uncomfortable.”

“I’m Dad in this situation,” Hawke said pointedly. 

Serenity chuckled softly and sat down at the table. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to insult you or seem ungrateful. Darkspawn can be tricky though.” 

“I didn’t hear the voices anymore after he was dead,” Anders reassured her. “It was quiet after.” 

“That's as good a sign as any, isn't it? Now Anders only has the one voice in his head,” Hawke said. 

“Very funny,” Anders said and picked up a couple of mugs as he gestured toward the barrel of ale in the corner of the room. “I don’t know if I should be sharing my stash with you now.” 

Isabela leaned back in her chair and smiled, “Oh, Anders, you’ve been holding out on me.” 

“It’s all yours,” Anders said and tossed her a mug. “Justice doesn’t let me drink anymore, at least not to the point where it’s fun.” 

“All the more reason for you to share it with me,” Hawke said, crossing the room to sidle up beside him, and helped herself to the other mug he held. She poured a second one and set it down in front of Varric. 

“I'm a dwarf, and even I think you could stand to cut back a little, Chuckles,” Varric said. 

“Fuck you,” Hawke said and slid the mug she’d set in front of him over to Serenity. “The only problem I have is that there isn’t enough booze here.” 

Varric laughed, “Well, I know not to come between Hawke and her ale. Just try not to get to the point where you’re picking a fight with a chair again.” 

“That chair came at me sideways,” Hawke said and lifted her mug to start drinking. 

Anders filled two more mugs and set them down at the table for Varric and Isabela. “I kind of wish Oghren were here,” he said. “Can you imagine he and Hawke drinking together?” 

“I think they’d unlock some new special ability harnessing the power of the alcohol content running through their veins,” Serenity noted as she lifted the mug to her lips. She grimaced, reminded that dwarven ale tasted terribly earthy—like deep mushrooms and a good helping of soot and soil mixed in. It was a wonder how it had the consistency of an ale while maintaining the flavor of mud. 

“Anders told me about this legendary smelly dwarf friend of yours,” Hawke said. “He drank and killed stuff. It'd be like looking at a shorter mirror.”

Anders chuckled, “I made the mistake of claiming I could drink him under the table. He even gave me the advantage of teaming up with Serenity, Jowan, and Nathaniel.” 

“Only Nathaniel was being responsible,” Serenity said. 

“Right, and the Hero of Ferelden can’t handle her liquor,” he said. “She almost got the templars called on us. Put the whole tavern to sleep to trick Oghren into thinking he lost. At the time we were too drunk to care. I guess it’s a good thing when everyone woke up, we were already back in our rooms.” 

“I guess you wouldn’t want to challenge me then,” Hawke smiled. 

“I know my limits,” Serenity chuckled and looked down at her mug. “This is going to be pushing it.” 

“I bet you’re an adorable drunk,” Isabela chimed in, resting her elbows on the table to cradle her chin in her hand.

Hawke went back to the barrel of ale to refill her mug and asked, “So, how much blood magic do you know, Serenity?” 

Isabela and Varric exchanged looks, and Serenity had the feeling this could get ugly if she didn’t tread carefully. “Just enough to survive,” she answered. 

“I've been trying to understand it,” Hawke said, sitting back in her chair. “A lot of the blood mages we've run into have been into some pretty fucked up shit.”

“I’ve seen some horrendous outcomes,” Serenity said, reminded of the Harvester she’d faced in the Deep Roads. She’d never faced anything more terrifying or wicked, though the Broodmothers still intruded on her thoughts more often. 

“I was wondering what you even did to that dead asshole,” Hawke said, fixing her with a level gaze over the rim of her mug as she took another swig of ale. 

“I, ah…” Serenity hesitated, her eyes drifting around the table. She doubted she needed to fear judgment or reprisal from Isabela or Varric, but she still felt ashamed of herself. She didn’t regret killing him, and she didn’t think she should feel any more ashamed of the spell she cast than if she had frozen and shattered him. But blood magic was evil, by all accounts. Even though she did what she had to, she knew most would not see it that way. Most would see that as an excuse. 

“Boiled his blood until he was all soupy?” Anders asked. “I’ve seen it before. It’s not pretty.” 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Serenity mumbled, avoiding eye contact with Hawke. “I sacrificed what was left of him to heal myself.” 

“I can't say I wouldn't boil someone's blood if they motivated me enough,” Hawke said and knocked back the rest of her mug of ale. “I get that desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess I don't have a problem with your blood magic if you're not using it to control someone like a puppet on strings.”

“I’m not like that,” Serenity said. “I’m wary to use it at all. But templars can separate mages from the Fade. Blood magic works around that severed connection. The blood of a Grey Warden is even more potent. I think it might have augmented my spell power.” 

“Maybe we’re not so different after all,” Hawke said, reassuring her with a smile. 

“I saw your fight with the Arishok,” Serenity said. “You’re a reaver, aren’t you? I’ve only ever seen one other person fight like that. Your shorter counterpart.” 

Hawke chuckled and threw her hands up. “You caught me. I think most people just assume that the more they hit me the angrier I get. Which isn't wrong, but I also get a little more of an edge.”

“How did you come into that power?” Serenity asked. “Isn’t there a ritual involved?”

“Oh, this is a fun story,” Isabela said, leaning back in her chair. 

“First part of the ritual is gathering the ingredients, which includes an infusion primer, rashvine, and dragon's blood. The infusion primer was no problem. The rashvine left its mark. But they don't exactly sell dragon's blood in the market next to the apples, do they?” Hawke smirked. 

“Varric tells it better,” Isabela whispered.

Varric grinned, “Isabela had to wear pants for three days because Hawke didn’t take her gloves off after—”

“I was thinking you might elaborate on the dragon, not the rashvine!” Isabela interrupted. “Andraste’s supple ass! I never thought Hawke would be one to give me a rash.”

Anders chuckled, “I got to see it too. She was so worried over nothing.” 

“It wasn’t nothing to me,” Isabela said and quirked an eyebrow at Anders. “You enjoyed my misery far too much.” 

Varric laughed, “Hey, I only go where the story takes me. Hawke mentioned the rash vine. It seemed like it was worth mentioning.”

“Oh, it definitely was,” Serenity grinned.

“I was hoping the whole dragon blood ritual might teach me how to shapeshift into a dragon,” Hawke said disappointedly. “Alas, I have yet to figure that one out.” 

“You might have a hard time without magic,” Serenity said. “Or you could do it in your dreams.”

“In my dreams?” Hawke scoffed. “I would like to make practical use out of my dragon form, not just live vicariously through my imagination. I could raze some assholes’ houses down.” 

“Then, those assholes would come to the Champion of Kirkwall to slay the dragon,” Varric suggested and winked. “You get your revenge _and_ profit.” 

“Great minds think alike,” Hawke smiled fondly. 

“But if you get your friend Feynriel to make you lucid in the Fade, you could learn,” Serenity said. “I haven’t tried it myself, but who knows? Maybe the dragon blood would make it easier for you.” 

“You know Feynriel?” Hawke asked, surprised. “Well, I’ll think about it. I didn’t like being conscious in the Fade the first time I did it.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Anders said. “Demons will flock to you if you’re aware.” 

“I’m not afraid of demons,” Hawke scoffed. “Demons are afraid of me.”

“Rumor has it you can find a shrine built for Hawke by rage demons in the Fade,” Varric chuckled. 

“One of these days Hawke is going to possess a demon just to show it who’s boss,” Isabela grinned.

Serenity laughed, “If you ever do find yourself lucid in the Fade, you should come find me. I think it would be fun to get lost with you.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to do something crazy and stupid like mess around with the Fade,” Hawke said. It wasn’t that farfetched. She did crazy and stupid a lot. 

“I’ve heard from Cullen that you’ve been helping the templars,” Serenity said. “I know the Gallows is bursting at the seams with demons, at least on the other side of the veil. In no small part due to the use of blood magic.” 

Isabela shot Serenity a glance of warning, as if to remind her that Anders stood behind her. She was as fond of Anders as everybody else at the table, but she was just as aware of Justice’s volatility.

Anders was aware of the look she’d given her and interjected, “We’ve been hunting down blood mages. Two of them were abominations. I may not agree with the templars or the Chantry, but even I know some mages can’t be saved.” 

“We let the other one go,” Hawke said. “He wasn’t a blood mage. Just an idiot.” 

“As I understand it, a blood mage helped your sister,” Serenity said. 

“After being party to her abduction in the first place,” Hawke scoffed. “If all they wanted was my help, they could’ve offered me coffers of gold. Threatening me just pisses me off.” 

“Your loyalty can be bought so easily?” Serenity asked. “Not that I’m saying their idea was acceptable. It was stupid.” 

“Not necessarily,” Hawke answered. “But I like to be paid when my time is wasted. At least I would’ve let them live.” 

“Don't let her mercenary attitude give you the wrong impression, Frosty,” Varric said. “Hawke is loyal to those who deserve it.”

“I can attest to that,” Isabela said. “Sometimes she’s even loyal to those who don’t.”

“You’re wondering why blood magic sets my teeth on edge, but you’re too polite to ask, aren’t you?” Hawke asked, fixing Serenity with a look. “We had a serial killer running around Kirkwall, murdering women. He became known at the White Lily Killer.” 

“I think I heard something about that the last time I was here,” Serenity murmured. She hadn’t paid it any mind at the time, too concerned with other matters. “He was a blood mage?” 

“He had a perverse desire to recreate his dead wife from the parts of his victims. Using blood magic and the help of demons, he kept the corpse alive. My mother’s head was the final piece he needed.” 

“Maker’s breath,” Serenity muttered, feeling her stomach turn at the thought. It was bad enough to encounter possessed corpses, but she couldn’t imagine having to face one she loved who had been mutilated and murdered. “I’m sorry, Hawke. I… I don’t know what to say. Nobody should have that kind of power. Nobody should use it.” 

“I know not everyone is that sick and twisted, but almost every blood mage I’ve met turned into an abomination or killed somebody to fuel a spell,” she said. “In fact, I can think of only one exception.” 

“Alain,” Serenity said. “He’s one of mine now.” 

“Wait, what? I mean, he's better off with you than in the Gallows, but…” Hawke trailed off and shook her head, realizing she really didn’t give a damn either way. “You're a bit of a busybody, aren't you?”

“Serenity has the habit of adopting strays,” Anders said and smiled at her as he considered what she did. “So, that’s why. I thought maybe Karras had been so determined to kill a mage, he overlooked the griffon on your arm. I guess he wasn’t that stupid. Just unlucky.” 

“I’d say he was pretty stupid to pick a fight with the Hero of Ferelden. Either way, it's one less corrupt templar to worry about around my sister,” Hawke said. 

Serenity watched Hawke lift her empty mug and glare disappointedly into the bottom of it. She knew Hawke had friends, but it couldn’t have been easy to see her family slowly fall apart. “The Knight-Commander hasn’t shown you any favor? You’re the Champion of Kirkwall,” Serenity said. 

“Pfft,” Hawke rolled her eyes. “My sister is just another mage to Meredith. She won’t make exceptions, not even for her. Being the Champion of Kirkwall has only gotten me more people knocking on my door or slipping letters through the mail slot asking for favors. I only do favors for people I like, of whom there are very few. Otherwise, they had better have the wherewithal to ask me for anything.” 

“I hate it when I’m asked to go into the Deep Roads,” Serenity groaned. 

“Me too,” Anders said pointedly, fixing Hawke with a look. 

“What?” Hawke shot back. “You know the Deep Roads better than any of us. I’m pretty sure you even insisted on coming the first time. And then you wouldn’t stop complaining about it.” 

Serenity chuckled and looked back at Anders. He had been there with her when they found the Children, the Broodmothers, the Architect, and the Mother. He’d seen it all, just as she had. “It does smell awful,” she said. 

“It reminds me of being cooped up in the tower without any sunlight,” he said, moving a crate beside Serenity's chair to sit beside her. “I hate the song more than anything though. It’s distracting, maddening. Feeling the darkspawn near. How can anyone sleep with that feeling of impending doom buzzing through their head?” 

Serenity reached out to rest her hand over his on his lap. She knew she was the only one to understand what it was he meant, but she wasn’t going to elaborate on it more. 

“How have you dealt with your fame, Hero of Ferelden?” Hawke asked. 

“I leave the country for months at a time,” Serenity smiled. “Actually, it’s been a blessing. I was allowed to move about freely in Kinloch Hold when I returned as a guest to study. I haven’t spent much time in Denerim since the war ended, but I’m not looked at with suspicion there or in the City of Amaranthine. I think I’m treated better than I would be if I were just any Grey Warden. I’m grateful for that.” 

“That’s what makes you so approachable,” Anders said. “It helps you don’t have a bounty on your head anymore.” 

“Right,” Serenity said. “Earlier on in the blight, I had more people trying to kill me than talk to me.”

“I feel like I could stand to disappear for a while,” Hawke said. “I’m just afraid if I do that, I’ll return to a complete shit show. I can’t risk that when my sister is the Circle.” 

“If you’re leaving, I hope you invite me to go with you,” Varric said. 

“I’ve got a ship,” Isabela chimed in. “Just say the word.” 

“Or maybe I should elope with Serenity,” Hawke said, slowly turning her gaze on Isabela. “She's seen some fucked up shit and had everyone putting their eggs in her basket. She really gets me, and our dogs are going to have puppies.”

Isabela furrowed her brow with a glare. “Are you seriously still mad that I said I don't believe in marriage?”

“Don't forget about the reason I had to kill the Arishok.”

“That's not fair. Context matters as to why I stole that book!”

“Uh huh. But then you ran off with it,” Hawke reminded her.

“But… I came back?” Isabela asked, raising her eyebrows with a smile. 

“You know I can't resist when you make that face,” Hawke grinned. “You can be our concubine.”

“Can I be your concubine too?” Anders asked with his most charming smile. 

Serenity laughed, “Maker preserve me.” She jumped at the sound of a loud bark from behind her and turned in her chair to see M.C. sniffing around for a place to pee. 

“Not in the clinic!” Anders protested, standing to shoo him back out the door. “You’ll scare away the cats if you do that.” 

“Do you mind taking him?” Serenity asked, looking at Hawke. 

“Right now?” Hawke asked and glanced down at her empty mug again. “Sure, why not? It’ll make Petunia happy.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Isabela said, noticing how Hawke wobbled as she stood up and nearly walked into the wall instead of through the doorway. “This is why we drink where we can fall asleep. There are way too many stairs in Darktown.”

“If I take a tumble, I have armor to protect me,” Hawke said. 

“You’re not wearing a helmet,” Isabela reminded her. 

“I’ve been told I have a thick skull,” Hawke winked. 

“I’m guessing you want some alone time with Blondie,” Varric said, excusing himself from the table. 

“Varric,” Serenity said, stopping him. “Could you make sure Alain is safe at the Hanged Man? I sent him there to wait for me, but if Nate is there, they should be introduced.” 

“I’ll make it happen.” 

  


Once the clinic was empty, save for Anders and herself, Serenity sat back down and patted the chair beside her. “How are you doing?” she asked. 

Anders sat down and turned his chair to face her. “I can tell you’re worried about me,” he said and smiled. “You’ve been a good friend. Better than I deserved after all the trouble I’ve put you through. But you can stop now. Stop worrying about me. Stop trying to save me.” 

“What are you saying?” Serenity asked as her heartrate quickened with an undercurrent of anxiety.

“It’s okay,” Anders assured her and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I’m going to be okay.”

“No… no, it’s not,” she said and stood up. “I’ve been searching for answers, but I’ve come up empty handed. That’s not to say I’ve learned nothing, but I haven’t learned enough.” 

“There’s less of me now,” Anders said softly. “When I lose control of myself, it’s no longer like looking through a window. It’s like the curtains are pulled closed. I don’t remember what’s happened when he takes over. I’ve learned to accept it. It’s easier that way. Justice and Vengeance were becoming too intertwined and difficult to tell apart when I resisted him. If I just am, if I just be, it’s peaceful. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it.” 

“Like… being embraced?” Serenity asked as her lips trembled and she wiped at the tears that fell from her eyes. 

She felt like she’d failed him. Was it really too late? How much of Anders was left? Inside him, how much of Justice was still pure? Could it be that he wasn’t totally corrupted? By accepting Justice’s influence, had Anders reversed the spirit’s corruption? 

“Don’t cry,” Anders said and stood up to wrap his arms around her. “I know I’m possessed, but I promise you, it’s going to be okay. I finally know what my purpose is. You, of all people, know how freeing it is for your life to have meaning. I’m standing on a precipice, prepared to do something greater than I ever thought I would be called to do, and Justice is exultant. I can’t turn back now, even if I wanted to. My life is just a feather compared to the weight of all those souls imprisoned in the Gallows. They deserve to be free too.”

She buried her face against his chest as she clutched his robe in her fists and asked, “What are you going to do?” 

“I can’t tell you,” Anders answered softly, petting her hair as she sobbed quietly and her tears soaked through the front of his tunic. “I know you’d try to stop me, just like Hawke would. I’ve tried talking. I’ve tried waiting. I tried resisting Justice for three years. The Mage Underground fell apart, and my inaction only angered him. Watching the Knight-Commander’s reign over Kirkwall worsen with each passing day only fueled Vengeance. I have to act. For the sake of the Circle and for the sake of Justice.” 

Serenity looked up at him, expecting to see melancholy behind his eyes, but he looked more at peace than she had ever seen him before. “I don’t want to lose you,” she sniffled, reluctant to let him go. 

“I know,” he said and held her hands when they dropped from his waist. “I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but… I love you. I don’t think people say it often enough to their friends. But you’ve shown me unconditional loyalty. You should have been angry with me. You should have hated me for what I did. I hope you won’t hate me after what I have to do.” 

Serenity shook her head and said, “I love you too much to hate you.”

“It’s easier to hate someone when you love them first,” Anders said and released her hands to wipe her tears. “Can I walk you back to the Hanged Man?” 

Serenity nodded, afraid this would be the last time she would see him. But whatever his plan involved, she knew he was prepared to die for it. She didn’t want to have to be the one to kill him. Could she, if it came down to it?

“Cullen won’t be in any danger, will he?” she asked and looked up at him to try to gauge whether or not he was lying as he answered her. That was the only thing she knew could sway her to raise her staff against him.

“No, he won’t,” Anders answered, meeting her eyes to reassure her. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Unless Cullen was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, the only danger to him would come after what he had planned. But he hoped she wouldn’t probe any further with her questions. 

To his relief, she didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Matt Maeson - The Hearse (stripped)


	29. The Chantry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will be Anders' fate?

Serenity couldn’t stop thinking about Anders and whether she should have asked him more questions or tried to stop him from doing whatever it was he had planned. She remembered Justice inciting the trapped souls of Blackmarsh to rise up against the Baroness and wondered what Anders would do to incite violence against the mages’ keepers. If a rebellion was what he intended, Cullen would be on the other side of it.

Justice wasn’t calculating. He was like a hammer, a blunt force that could cause as much destruction as he intended to repair. But Anders? Anders was thoughtful, patient, and cunning. She hoped he only intended to lure out the Knight-Commander and unseat her—but that didn’t seem like it would be enough. It wouldn’t be enough to change the world. 

“Serenity,” Nathaniel said, nudging her toe with his foot under the table. 

Her eyes snapped up to his, realizing she’d been lost in thought while he was talking to her. “Sorry, what?” 

“I can take Alain back to Vigil’s Keep for the Joining,” he said. “We could leave tomorrow.” 

“There will be a templar on that ship,” she said. “Better we take him into the Deep Roads here so he can undergo the rite sooner than later.” 

“Even with the darkspawn blood, I don’t have what we need,” Nathaniel said meaningfully. 

“I do,” Serenity assured him, patting the pouch on her belt that held a vial of Archdemon blood. She always kept a vial on hand for precisely this kind of occasion. “Are you up for going tonight?” 

“If we go now, we can leave the Deep Roads by morning and the darkspawn won’t give chase into daylight,” Nathanial said. “If you don’t mind sacrificing a night’s rest.” 

“I’m… a little nervous,” Alain said quietly. “But I’m awake.” 

“You’ll have us with you,” Nathaniel reminded him. 

“I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes,” Serenity said and went to her room to change. She wore her Reaper’s Vestments, heavily enchanted against darkspawn, with runes that augmented her cold spells. She had made it a habit of wearing her Warden uniform while in Kirkwall, mostly for show. They wouldn’t be staying in the city for long, however, and there wouldn’t be any templars in the Deep Roads. 

As they left the Hanged Man and made their way towards the gates leading to the Storm Coast, an explosion shook the entire city and stopped them in their tracks as the sky lit up with red energy and white fire. 

“Take cover!” Nathaniel shouted, grabbing Serenity by the arm to pull her into the nearest doorway. 

Serenity whistled for Mabari-Cullen to follow her and held his head against her side protectively as she looked up at the sky. She had never seen anything like it. Was it alchemical or magical in nature? 

“What—what happened? What was that?” Alain asked, looking up as debris fell from the sky. 

“Alain, move!” Nathaniel shouted, pulling him out of the street just as a sizeable chunk of stone and plaster fell and shattered where he’d been standing, leaving smoldering red veil fire in patches on the ground. Smaller rocks pelted the cobblestone as a layer of dust and ash fell over them like a blanket. He lifted his arm over his face to cough into his elbow and said, “The Qunari are gone. It couldn’t have been Gaatlok.” 

“It was something else,” Serenity said, certain Anders was behind it. If that was magic, it had to have been Justice’s power at play. Anders was a capable mage, but he didn’t know any spells that powerful. Rather, she expected Justice might have found a way to expel all of his spiritual energy at the cost of Anders’ body—like a walking bomb. “This is bad. The mages are going to be blamed for this!” 

“No!” Alain choked out with a rise of panic. “The Knight-Commander already called for the right of Annulment! She might already have started slaughtering them in their cells!” 

“We need to go to the Gallows. We need to stop her before she goes too far,” Serenity said and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Anders, why…?” 

“Anders?” Nathaniel repeated. “He’s behind this? You think that demon inside him could cause an explosion like that?” 

“I don’t know how he did it,” Serenity said. “But I should have stopped him. All we can do now is try to reason with the Knight-Commander.” 

“She won’t listen to reason,” Alain warned her. 

“We don’t have any other choice,” Nathaniel said and looked up to see whether debris still rained down on them. The air was still grey with pollutants and the sky beyond Hightown still red with residual magic—or whatever elements Anders had used to create such an explosion. “It looks like he targeted the Chantry rather than the Gallows.” 

“He wouldn’t risk the mages’ lives,” Alain said. 

“But look at all he’s hurt,” Serenity said, suddenly guilt-stricken with the memory of Greagoir’s reprisal. This was her fault. Her compassion for Anders cost Kirkwall so many lives. 

She was as much to blame for this, but she didn't dare admit it aloud. She knew he was going to do something. She could have stopped him. She could have prevented this. 

Serenity led them back towards the docks to cross the inlet to the Gallows, but she found Anders, Orsino, Hawke, and her associates before reaching the ferry. Around them lay a contingent of dead templars. In the distance, beyond them and several flights of stairs, she could see the Knight-Commander on the water, returning to the Circle. It surprised her to see Anders still alive, but she knew Meredith was going to gather her forces to prepare to enact the right of Annulment. 

  


“You fool!” Orsino yelled, shaking with frustration, as he stood toe to toe with Anders. “You’ve doomed us all!” 

“We were already doomed,” Anders answered coldly. “A quick death now or a slow one later. Can you not see how powerless you were and always have been under her heel? The Circle is an injustice. I would rather die fighting than see our people taken like lambs to slaughter.” 

“Elphina is not the Circle! She was a good woman,” Sebastian interjected, glaring at Anders from over Hawke’s shoulder. “And you murdered her.” 

“You’re a murderer, Anders,” Hawke muttered, struggling to keep her tone even. She was angry—angry at having been manipulated and used, lied to and betrayed, and made an accomplice to murder under the guise of helping him exorcise the demon that possessed him. “The Grand Cleric. The mages. Their blood is on your hands.” 

“I know.” 

“And mine,” she growled. “You heard what she said. I either have to agree to see my sister and hundreds of innocents culled or die with them. It’s not really a choice, is it? You might be prepared to die for your cause, but you don’t get to throw away everybody else’s lives too.” 

“Being confined and tortured is not living,” Anders argued. “It’s breathing, but it’s not living.” 

Orsino sighed, “I don’t know if we can win this war, Champion. But I thank you for choosing what is right. The mages in the Circle are innocent of this crime and shouldn’t suffer the punishment Meredith seeks to enforce. I have to hurry back to the Gallows. Deal with this miscreant, will you?” 

Serenity gestured for Nathaniel and Alain to stay back as she joined Hawke’s inner circle and stood in front of Anders, where he sat upon a crate, awaiting judgment and execution. He looked up at her and sighed, reading the disappointment on her face. 

“What am I to do with you?” Hawke asked, crossing her arms. 

“Is that really a question you need to ask?” Sebastian said incredulously. “He’s a murderer, responsible for the deaths of more innocents than just the Grand Cleric! He speaks of justice, but what of the justice they deserve?” 

“He’s right,” Anders said. “I know what I did served a just purpose for those oppressed in the tower but at the cost of innocent lives. They deserve justice. If my death can appease those I’ve hurt, I will accept my death with purpose.” 

“Well, then, I guess that settles it,” Hawke said, drawing the knife from her belt. “Are you really going to make me do this? After all that talk about what a good friend I’ve been, you would put me in the position where I have to kill you?” 

“I’m sorry,” Anders said quietly. “I hate that I hurt you. But I had to do this. I’ve… questioned myself and had doubts about it, but… I couldn’t walk away from the injustices here. I couldn’t turn a blind eye to it, not even if I wanted to.” 

“I hate you for making me do this,” Hawke muttered. Anders was once her friend—a close enough confidant that she overlooked the fact that he was abomination. He’d managed his condition well enough until then. But she knew he deserved to die. She had to remind herself that he’d lied to her, used her, started a war that put her sister’s life at risk, and showed no remorse for all who suffered for his choices. She was angry, but still, her hand trembled holding the knife. 

_Death is merciful for an abomination,_ Hawke assured herself. 

  


“Wait,” Serenity said. 

“Don’t tell me,” Hawke said. “You want to save him. You’ve already tried that. It didn’t stick.” 

“How would his death serve anybody?” Serenity asked, aware that she was grasping at straws. “Justice has seen his purpose fulfilled. He’s not in control now, is he?” 

“It would serve to punish him for his crimes!” Sebastian argued. “Don’t try to blame that spirit for what he’s done. It was his hand that did it.” 

“Stop,” Anders said, looking up at Serenity, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You know I can’t be saved. Not from retribution and not from myself.” 

“Was this the will of that demon possessing you? Did he do this?” Hawke asked, walking around Anders to look him in the eye. “Tell me it went against your will, Anders. Tell me you knew it was wrong.” 

“No. I let it happen,” Anders admitted. “When Justice was my friend, he told me that demons are just spirits whose purpose was perverted. I think I changed him just as much as he changed me. I… I don't know how much of me there is left between us, but I stopped fighting him. I let his purpose guide me to avoid corrupting him any further. I stopped letting my pain dictate my every thought and chose determination. We have achieved what we sought to do. You should kill me. Kill me before there’s nothing left of me.” 

“No,” Serenity said, looking Hawke in the eye. “I took responsibility for him when I conscripted him. I should be the one to see him punished. Death is not enough. It’s the easy way out and it serves no greater purpose.” 

“What do you propose?” Hawke asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“He will atone for his crimes against the Grey Wardens and the Chantry in the Deep Roads,” she answered and met Anders' eyes. “I will see him to the Dead Trenches myself.” 

Hawke sheathed the knife on her belt and said, “Then, he’s already dead.” 

“No! You cannot let this abomination walk free,” Sebastian protested. “He dies now, or I am returning to Starkhaven. And I will bring such an army with me on my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule!” 

“He will not be free,” Serenity said, stepping between Sebastian and Anders. 

“Stand down, Sebastian,” Hawke sighed. “All his dying now would do is ease your hurt feelings. It won’t bring the Grand Cleric back. Let the Grey Wardens use him.” 

“I will not fight either of you now,” Sebastian conceded bitterly. “My death now would serve nothing—” 

“That’s right,” Serenity interrupted. “Death serves nothing. Let it be, Brother.” 

“I will return to Starkhaven,” Sebastian said, glowering at Serenity. “But... I swear to you, I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is!” 

“He won’t be here,” Serenity warned him. “But I hope you and your army kill a thousand darkspawn while you search for him.” 

“Go and cool down, Sebastian,” Hawke urged him. “Think this through. Do you really want to start a war with the entirety of Kirkwall over someone who has no allegiance to it? Think about what you're proposing and why you're wrong.” 

After Sebastian walked away, Varric sighed, "Something tells me he'll be back. Grief can make people crazy.” 

  


Anders stood up, surprised at the turn of events, though none too happy about it. He hated the Deep Roads—and he hated being forced into servitude. But he did have to atone for what he did—for the deaths of the Wardens that had nothing to do with Rolan’s intent and for all the innocents in Kirkwall that died in the explosion. 

“What about the rebellion?” he asked. “Before you take me to the Deep Roads, will you allow me to fight and help the mages?” 

“No,” Serenity answered. 

“No?” Hawke repeated, surprised. “I mean, I get that that might be seen as a reward by some, but he did start this war. I got dragged into fighting his battle for him. I think he should pull his weight.” 

“He could help the people in the city,” Serenity said and gestured around her. “The city is on fire. Debris is still falling on our heads, burning holes in rooftops. I don’t know how many are dead, but people are still dying.” 

“Fair enough,” Hawke said. 

“Nate and Alain will go with you,” Serenity said. “To keep an eye on you and to help however they can.” 

Nathaniel stepped out of the shadows, where he and Alain had stood back to watch the scene unfold. “We’ll meet you back at the Hanged Man after this is all over,” he said. “Be careful out there, Serenity. The templars won’t treat you any differently than any other mage.” 

“I know healing magic too,” Alain said and held up his staff so the orb at the end emitted a faint blue light as he cast Haste on each member of the group. “I… I know I’m needed here and I should be relieved not to be in the Gallows right now, but… should I go with you? I don’t have any friends left in the Circle. They’re all… gone. Dead or made Tranquil. But there are others like me there, pleading for mercy at the end of a sword. If I can help—” 

“It is your choice,” Serenity said and watched as Hawke and her companions made their way to the ferry. “Make it now. We need to go.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Nathaniel assured him. 

“I’ll come with you,” Alain said and followed Serenity to join the others. 

As Serenity boarded the boat behind the others, she sat beside Hawke and M.C. climbed in after her. 

“You’re bringing your dog?” Fenris asked, watching the mabari try to fit onto the floor of the boat between their legs. He took up more space than either Serenity or Merrill did. 

“He comes everywhere with me,” Serenity answered. “We have enough space.” 

As they crossed the lake to the Gallows, flashes of light from spells being cast could be seen through the fog. Her heart was racing and her hands trembling. She dreaded fighting the templars, not only because Cullen would be among them—but because she would have to resort to blood magic to survive. She couldn’t do it in his presence, even if she should find herself silenced and helpless. 

What was Cullen going to do? Would he still choose to follow orders, even with her there to oppose them? She couldn’t fight him if he did, but she would still stand with Hawke to prevent the right of Annulment, even if the fight should not end in their favor. 

She inwardly reminded herself that she had fought hordes of darkspawn and slain the Archdemon. She had climbed the tower in Lake Calenhad and faced countless demons and abominations—and possessed, charmed, and burning templars. She would survive this too. The templars had power over her, but she was not alone. The sound of the water lapping against the sides of the boat was the only thing to break the somber silence. Serenity nudged Hawke’s knee with her own and looked up at her. 

“I’m going to stay close to you,” Serenity said. “You remind me of Sten. He was my shield when Alistair wasn’t.” 

“I think I'll take it as a compliment that you think I’m as dangerous as a Qunari,” she said. “Unless you mean I'm as big a target as one, then that's not as flattering.”

“It means I don’t think anyone is getting by you,” Serenity said and smiled.

“I don't think Varric would forgive me if I let anything happen to my future wife.”

Isabela sighed, “If I say I'll entertain the idea, will you leave our sweet Warden alone?”

“Yes,” Hawke said and smiled triumphantly. 

Aveline sat on the other side of Varric and Fenris, but she had her eyes on Serenity as she waited for the opportunity to speak. When silence fell among the group again, she asked, “Why the Chantry? Why wouldn’t he take his fight to the Gallows? He knew every way in.” 

“He didn’t want to just hack at the branches, he wanted to uproot the whole tree,” Hawke answered. “I don’t know that his actions will affect the greater change he’s hoping it will, but Kirkwall won’t be the same.” 

“The Chantry made Anders the way he is,” Serenity said. “Every bit of what he is now is a reflection on the Circle and Chantry law. He is uncompromising because the Circle is uncompromising.” 

“’There can be no half-measures,’” Hawke said. “You’re right. Sounds like something Meredith would say.” 

As silence fell among them again, Serenity thought about all the people she met whose lives were shaped by the Chantry and its teachings. Her faith in the Maker was unshaken, but her faith in the Chantry was. The Maker, as Leliana believed, was merciful and loving. It was people that were corrupt. Just as they corrupted the Golden City, they corrupted his message in the Chant of Light. 

She thought about Keili, so driven by the Chantry to fear her own potential that she wanted to die. Keili was comforted by the thought of becoming Tranquil, even knowing all that she would lose. She had even suggested the mages allow the templars to annul the Circle to punish them for their curse when Serenity climbed the tower in search of Irving and Cullen. 

She thought about Owain, eerie and unfeeling, set to task like a slave and treated like a tool rather than a human being. The apprentices used to whisper about how uncomfortable they were with what he was, even before they learned about the rite of Tranquility. But it wasn’t his fault. The apprentices weren’t formally educated on the rite—not until they were subjected to the brand. 

She thought about Jowan, under so much pressure to be good enough for fear he would fail and die or be made Tranquil that he took measures to ensure his success so that one day he might live free without fear. And how quickly he was to be put to death or under the brand when he hadn’t even consorted with any demons. 

She thought about Lily, innocent and loving, seeing Jowan as human before a mage. She was punished so severely, sent to rot in the worst prison. Did she still live? Was there any part of her left? Or was she a shell, betrayed and ruined by the Chantry’s hatred for mages and anyone that associated with them? 

She thought about Karl, made Tranquil just for being under suspicion of trying to escape, for being the recipient of a letter. He had been transferred from Kinloch Hold after his Harrowing, separated from all he knew, and he had cooperated with the templars. Why was his obedience never recognized or rewarded? Why was it so easy to take away his autonomy, his mind, and his feelings? 

She thought about Alain, so fearful and desperate—but with a will so strong, he would not give in to demons. He could be driven to run away, but he would not be driven to find strength from across the veil. He didn’t know what he was running towards, but he lost everyone he cared about in his bid for freedom. 

She thought about Wynne, compassionate, patient, kind, and wise. She knew if the Chantry was aware of her union with a spirit, even a spirit of Faith, they would label her an abomination. It didn’t matter that it saved her life and strengthened her magic as a Spirit Healer. They would fear her and the spirit cradling hers. 

She thought about Anders, sensitive, lonely, unable to adapt—seen by the templars only as a rebellious boy who refused to obey. They tried to break his spirit after they broke his heart. For a long time, Anders thought they hadn’t broken him because he was still breathing. But she knew that they had. The pain he felt from being isolated was an open wound, made to fester by Justice. But Anders was as resilient as the people he named himself after. He survived everything thrown at him.

She thought about Cullen, kept on a leash by the Chantry, addicted to lyrium and reliant on it, surrounded by shadows that tried to snuff out the light in him. His fellow templars frowned on compassion and warned against seeing the mages as anything other than vessels for demons. How many of the blood mages behind his torture were monsters made by the Chantry’s fear mongering and hatred of magic? 

She thought about Ser Irminric, delirious with withdrawal from lyrium, left to starve and rot away in Fort Drakon. He had shown Jowan compassion and tried to capture him rather than execute him, even knowing he was a blood mage. Why hadn’t the Chantry searched for his body to give him a proper funeral? Even if they had taken Loghain at his word that he had been killed in the line of duty, why hadn’t they asked for something to honor him by? 

She thought about Ser Otto, dutiful and brave, without any malice towards mages, even after losing his sight to maleficarum. Why was he alone on his investigation into the alienage? Why hadn’t they taken greater care to ensure his safety in such a dangerous task? Why hadn’t they listened to him when he insisted evil was lurking in the shadows there?

She thought about the templar standing outside the chantry in Denerim and wished she knew his name. He still wore the armor and stood vigilant, but his memories were lost, his mind hardly his own anymore. Why didn’t they retire him and care for him? Would they continue to give him lyrium until he died? Would stopping now kill him with withdrawal like it had Ser Irminric? 

She thought about Alrik, encouraged to instill fear in mages to ensure their cooperation. She wondered how many mages were made Tranquil for the most minor offenses or just because he wanted to make them his personal servants. Why was he promoted to Knight-Lieutenant? Because he had effectively controlled his charges through the abuse of power granted to him by divine right? 

She thought about Karras, belittling and dehumanizing. He knew he had the power to wield Tranquility without repercussions and threatened the apprentices he abused. He ensured their silence through fear. 

She thought about Ser Thrask, looked down upon by his fellow templars for being diplomatic and showing compassion, made a pariah by his own Knight-Commander. He was still a dutiful man, but he did not share the views adopted by Kirkwall’s templars and he was punished for them. All that rose up with him fell with him, made an example of in the Gallows courtyard.

She thought about Beau, so disillusioned by the order in Kirkwall that he preferred risking his life through the Joining to fight for a cause he thought worthy of him. He had been ordered to do something unjust and was punished for refusing. How could the Chantry allow such corruption to run so deeply?

She thought about herself. What would have happened to her had Duncan not been there to conscript her? At the time, she thought she would have been made Tranquil for her part in helping Jowan, but perhaps like Lily, she would have been sent to Aeonar, where she would have been subject to untold tortures, pushed to possession and executed. How much would she have been able to endure? Considering what Alrik had done to her and how close she came to dying that night, she didn’t think she would have lasted a day as a newly made mage. 

Even now, she knew the templars would fear what she was capable of, no matter her accomplishments or her compassion. She knew blood magic, even if she rarely utilized it—and she was made a Grey Warden through blood magic—and she would cure the taint through blood magic. She was maleficar—and she would be put to death. 

_'Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him.'_

Transfigurations 1:2 was wielded as a weapon against the mages, but she was still a child of the Maker. Her magic was not a curse but a connection to the Fade that brought her closer to Him. This was her war as much as it was theirs. 

She understood why Anders chose the Chantry and the Grand Cleric, but she couldn’t defend Anders’ actions. She didn’t agree with what he did, not even a little bit. It was no different from the Tevinter magisters enacting a mass blood sacrifice, striking a balance between life and death. To save the lives of the mages, he sacrificed the lives of hundreds of innocents in Kirkwall—and still, many of the mages in the Circle would die in this war. Perhaps he didn’t know the explosion would cause as much harm as it did to so many below Hightown, but the damage was done. She wasn’t sure she could forgive herself for all that she let come to pass with her compassion. But even now, she could not see him die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Alt J - Adeline


	30. The Gallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity stands with the Champion in the battle against Meredith.

Serenity followed Hawke and her companions into the Gallows courtyard, where four mages fled from the stairs and fell to their knees in submission.

“Have mercy, we beg you! Do whatever you want with us but let us live!” 

“No!” Meredith shouted, closing in behind Hawke and her companions. “This circle is beyond redemption.” 

Isabela and Varric kept to the shadows while Fenris, Merrill, and Alain spread out from the group in case the talking turned into fighting. Aveline and Serenity with M.C. at her heel stood beside Hawke to meet the Knight-Commander. 

“Knight-Commander, surely the right of annulment requires something more—” Cullen started. 

“It requires my word, Cullen. Do as I've commanded,” Meredith ordered. 

Cullen subdued a sigh and started to survey the damage to the courtyard when Serenity caught his eye. Standing between Hawke and her mabari, she appeared innocuous, but he knew why she was there and that she was just as dangerous as the Champion. He knew she would do everything in her power to prevent the right of Annulment, just as she had in Ferelden—even if it cost her her own life. He couldn’t take his eyes away from hers as he tried to read her expression. She was calm and confident; if she felt otherwise, she hid it well. But there was something more in the look she exchanged with him. Trust. 

“Champion!” The kneeling mage pleaded desperately, “Will you not defend us? Must we all be slaughtered for the actions of a few?” 

“Champion, do you stand with the mages? Or on the side of order?” Meredith asked, scrutinizing her with her steely gaze. “You’ve proven to be fickle with your loyalties. Have you come to see reason?” 

“I am here to restore order to the Circle. But the question is how,” Hawke answered. “I want to hear what the Knight-Captain has to say.” 

“I...” Cullen hesitated, breaking his gaze from Serenity’s to meet Hawke’s eyes. “The right has always been a last resort. When every mage involved was beyond salvation. The situation was far more dire in Ferelden's Circle, and yet, many mages were saved. We could still do as much here.” 

“Objection noted, Captain,” Meredith said, her tone dripping with disapproval. 

“Is there a way to tell if they're blood mages?” Hawke asked. 

“There is not,” Meredith answered. 

“But they haven't resorted to it, even to save their own lives,” Cullen objected. “Perhaps if we watch them carefully—” 

“And if they hope to escape by playing innocent, will you accept that responsibility, Cullen?” Meredith asked, turning to face him. 

“Yes. I believe that's what being a templar is about.” 

“And I say we are here to protect the people,” Meredith barked back, “We must be judges, jailors, and even executioners. That is our duty as templars.” 

“We're here to prevent a crisis, not raze everything in our path,” Hawke said. “You should want the same. You chose to take control of this city. Do you want to see it reduced to rubble under your rule?” 

“That is exactly why we must act swiftly,” Meredith said.

“Listen to the Champion,” Cullen instructed, gesturing to the templars behind him. “See these mages to the dungeon. It will be safe there until this is over.”

Meredith watched with disdain as her own Knight-Captain and the Champion of Kirkwall undermined her authority and questioned her capability as a leader. She noticed Alain as the templars passed him with the mages that surrendered and furrowed her brow in contempt and confusion. “Did you return this apostate to us, Champion?” 

“He stands with me, with the Grey Wardens,” Serenity interjected. “And I stand with the Champion.” 

“You. I remember you,” Meredith said as if the memory tasted bitter in her mouth. “I heard the Grey Wardens have a penchant for harboring blood mages. Do you see, Cullen, what your mercy has accomplished? You stayed his execution and he became an apostate—”

“Alain is no blood mage,” Serenity interrupted, her eyes flitting over to Cullen in an effort to reassure him. 

“You’ve chosen to involve yourself in this war, Warden, which goes against your order’s decree, does it not? It shows you have a blatant disregard for rules.”

“So I’ve been told,” Serenity said.

“As long as you stand in my Circle and oppose me, you will die with the rest of these mages,” Meredith warned her. “What’s left of the templars stationed in the city are already crossing the harbor.”

“We should join Orsino in the Gallows,” Aveline said. 

“You disappoint me, Captain of the Guard,” Meredith said and sighed as she watched them retreat. 

“Commander—” Cullen started. 

“The Champion of Kirkwall does not stand with the order. She does not serve the Maker,” Meredith reminded him. “Do not question my command or undermine me again, Cullen. We _must_ be unified. We _must_ do what the order dictates. You know the dangers of magic better than anyone. You know how deeply rooted demons and blood mages are within the Circle. They do not reveal their power until they are pushed. Soon, you will see.” 

* * *

  
The right of Annulment had already begun, evident by the bodies of templars, mages, and abominations strewn about the hallways on their way into the mages’ quarters in search of Orsino and the senior enchanters. Serenity thought if the mages could organize and find a defensible position within the tower, they could defend themselves against the templars over an extended period should it come to that. But they would have to mount a coordinated attack to do a burst of damage against the incoming soldiers if they wanted to conserve their mana and cast their spells efficiently. Without a strategy, their magic would be disrupted, rendering them defenseless, and they would be picked off one by one. The templars were a trained army, but the mages were not defenseless. 

But was it better to fight back? Was there any way they could survive without coming to violence? By fighting, they gave the templars all the reason they needed to enact the right. But if they surrendered, they wouldn't be shown mercy, not by Meredith, at least.

More of Meredith’s forces were on their way to finish what they started, but it didn’t look like the bulk of the Circle’s residents had yet taken to the fight. 

“Hawke, you made it,” Orsino greeted her with a sigh of relief. 

Even with the Champion of Kirkwall and her company, Orsino still despaired over the position the Circle mages were in. Trapped, like injured animals to be put to slaughter. Most of those eager to rebel turned to blood magic. After all of his efforts since he took up the mantle of First Enchanter, he felt like he had achieved nothing. Any small victories he felt he’d achieved were taken away from him in the last few years. It was all for naught. He was lost, too.

“Meredith’s reinforcements will be here soon,” Hawke warned him. “My people know what their strengths are and what to do. Do yours?” 

“Are you asking me if the mages here are prepared to fight an army of templars?” Orsino asked and shook his head. “No. But I know what I must do. Quentin's research was too evil, too dangerous, so I put it aside. But I see now there is no other way.”

“You--what?” Hawke asked, subduing the outrage that spiked through her. “You kept that murderer's research? You should have burned it!”

“There's always another way,” Serenity said. “I've seen you fight! You don't have to do this! Gather the mages together and we’ll block the entrances into the mages’ quarters so they have only one way in—” 

“I am sorry,” Orsino said, drawing his knife. “I am not strong enough as I am. Meredith expects blood magic. I will give it to her.”

M.C growled as Orsino cut into his arm, muttering the words to the darkest spells he’d learned. 

“This is going to reflect as poorly on the mages as Anders' actions did,” Aveline said disappointedly.

“Worse,” Serenity said. “He is their First Enchanter, every mage's mentor and confidant. We cannot let him leave here alive. We could blame the explosion on a single apostate, but this?” 

“Ugh, that's vile,” Hawke said, watching as Orsino transformed, pulling the corpses of the nearby mages and templars to his body with a magnetism only demons were capable of. “This is the same magic Quentin used to join together the limbs of his victims. I didn't think it could get worse. If he had Quentin's research, then he knew what he was doing. He knew all along.”

“I've seen this kind of blood magic before,” Serenity said. M.C. barked as if to claim he had seen it too. “The head with all those arms and teeth can move independently from the torso—and it's fast.”

“Well, that's disgusting,” Hawke said, drawing her sword. She wasn’t sure whether Orsino still had any control over the monstrosity he became or whether he was possessed, but it didn’t matter. She was going to kill him--and she was pissed off. 

When Serenity fought the Harvester in the Deep Roads, she had to fight in close quarters, sustaining her spells and cycling through the elements to slowly whittle it down in a battle of attrition. Her allies at the time, aside from M.C., were barely capable of facing such a creature. Now, however, with Hawke, Fenris, Varric, Merrill, and so many others, she hardly had to tap into her mana at all to bring it down. The battle was still longer than she expected it would be, considering how Fenris and Hawke cleaved the torso, rending limbs of corpses from its body with each swing. But the blood magic was powerful, and there were many more lifeless bodies to take from. 

It was Fenris who finally felled the torso, but the skittering head jumped away on injured arms. M.C. chased it down and overwhelmed it so it couldn’t get very far. Seeing the Harvester now, Serenity felt oddly at peace with it. It was still wretched and horrid, and she thought seeing how it was made should have disturbed her even more than how she had encountered it in the Deep Roads.

Having faced it again and seeing how Hawke crushed it under her boot like a pest made it seem less powerful than it was before. It wouldn’t have the same power over her now. Seeing the First Enchanter become the monster, however, was something else she would have to cope with. It was heartbreaking.

“Such a waste... He could have helped us,” Isabela said.

“No… no! Why would he do that…?” Bethany whimpered. “He was our First Enchanter. He was…” 

“Desperate,” Merrill said. “It's sad. He didn't think he was strong enough. But he had us.”

"Good riddance," Hawke muttered as she scanned the cells on the same floor, unable to see into the rooms above or below the platform they stood upon. Some mages still remained, waiting for the inevitable or preparing to beg for mercy. Those that were fighting were scattered around the Gallows. 

"He was not a bad man," Bethany started. 

“You saw the magic he used. You know where it came from," Hawke said and turned to face the others. "We need to go through the templars’ quarters and confront Meredith." 

As they navigated the prison, they faced as many abominations as they did templars, but encountered very few mages who hadn’t turned to blood magic. 

Serenity hung anxiously behind the group as they made their way through the training hall, the kitchen, and past the laundry room. She vaguely recognized the corridor that led to Meredith’s office from the terrace, envisioning the mouseholes and the shimmering portal that should have led into the courtyard. It was disorienting to recall, seeing how different it was now. She could hear the whispers of rage and despair reaching out as she stepped over the bodies of fallen templars, their armor rent by the claws of demons. It would be easy to call up shades and tear the veil, allowing the hungry creatures to wreak havoc across the Gallows. But she had no temptation to do it. 

“Look at all this,” Meredith greeted them, gesturing to the disintegrating corpses of shades and the limp bodies of abominations beside those mages that tried to flee and hadn’t turned to blood magic. “Magic is a cancer in the heart of our land, just as it was in the time of Andraste. Like her, we are left with no choice but to purify it with fire and blood.”

“You'll pay for what you've done here,” Hawke said, glaring as she drew closer to the templars but kept enough distance that they wouldn’t be able to reach her should they draw their swords. Most of her companions stayed back, taking position out of sight around the pillars, but Serenity stood behind her on the bottom step of the stairs. 

“I will be rewarded for what I've done here, in this world and the next! I have done nothing but perform my duty. What happens to you now is your own doing,” Meredith frowned. “I am ashamed to have been blind to how you keep the company of apostates. You are not a mage, but you sympathize with them and allow them to manipulate you. In defending them, you've chosen to share their fate.”

“Knight-Commander,” Cullen interjected, “I thought we agreed to arrest the Champion.”

“You will do as I command, Cullen,” Meredith said, fixing him with a sidelong glance of warning. 

“No,” Cullen said, shaking his head. “I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad. But this is too far.”

“I will not allow insubordination! We must stay true to our path!” Meredith shouted and turned to face him as she brandished her sword to cow him into submission. He held his hands up and took a step back to try to calm her. 

Seeing her threat, Serenity gasped audibly as panic rose in her chest and her voice climbed out of her throat in an unbidden cry, “NO!” 

Cullen glanced over at her, seeing how the frost at her fingertips climbed up her arms, and held his hand up to stay her from casting or moving any closer. To his relief, Hawke blocked her with an arm across her chest before she drew any more attention to herself. He didn’t want Meredith to see what he saw. Serenity was shaking, her fists clenched with a spell strong enough to freeze the Knight-Commander before she could follow through with a swing of her sword if she tried. 

“Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks! Is that…?” Varric called out, drawing Meredith’s attention away from them. 

“You recognize it, do you not?” Meredith asked, turning to face him as she rotated the sword in her hand so the glowing veins embedded in the blade gleamed in the moonlight. “Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize.”

“The idol poisoned Bartrand's mind in the end,” Hawke reminded her. 

“He was weak, whereas I am not,” Meredith said and pointed the sword at Hawke. “All of you, I want her dead!”

“Enough!” Cullen protested, steeling himself for what he knew was to come. “This is not what the order stands for. Knight-Commander, step down. I relieve you of your command!”

Meredith’s eyes widened, appalled by the implications of his refusal to obey. “My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic.” She turned, wielding her glowing blade with increasing paranoia. “You all have! You're all weak, allowing the mages to control your minds, to turn you against me! But I don't need any of you! I will protect this city myself!”

The templars backed up, giving Meredith a wide berth. They were confused and disconcerted by her madness, and it was clear some of them didn’t know what to do or whose side they were supposed to be on as Cullen joined Hawke and Serenity at the foot of the stairs. As he drew his sword and held up his shield, he said, “You’ll have to go through me.” 

Serenity stood beside him and tapped the bottom of her staff against the concrete so the light emitted from the end of the stone grew into a brighter blue swirling luminescence. “And me.” 

“Idiot boy,” Meredith admonished him. “Just like all the others. I’ll have both your heads!” 

“She's lost it. Just like Bartrand,” Varric said, moving up the stairs for higher ground.

Meredith knelt, gripping her cursed sword in prayer. “Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!”

Most of the templars retreated. None of them stood with Meredith, though only a few followed Cullen to assist him in putting a stop to the Knight-Commander’s madness. One Serenity recognized as the Knight-Lieutenant Samantha and another she was certain she had seen begging on the streets outside the alienage years prior, but she couldn’t put a name to any of the others.

Meredith's eyes emitted a faint red glow that crackled through her skin like the virulent strands of energy that stretched around the blade in her hands. It reminded Serenity of the light Justice emitted through Anders when they fought, only corrupted… like an Archdemon’s. She knew Meredith didn't summon a demon and doubted she'd stumbled into dealing with one, but her condition did raise questions about the nature of lyrium—and what exactly caused it to turn red.

Serenity ran up the steps to join Alain and said, “Conserve your mana. If Cullen gets hurt, make it your priority to heal him.” 

“What about Hawke?” 

“Only if it looks like she’s going down,” Serenity said. “Think of her as you would a blood mage. The pain makes her stronger.” 

“I… I understand!”

She looked down at her mabari, noticing the spread of white fur around his chin reaching his cheeks and said, “Protect Alain, boy.” Even though Meredith was only one person, Serenity didn’t know just how powerful the red lyrium would make her—and she couldn’t risk anything happening to her dog in the ensuing battle. 

Cullen instructed those templars that didn’t retreat—Keran, Samantha, Hugh, Leighton, and Samson—to spread out and stand ready to defend any she turned her enmity on. Their goal was to assist the Champion. 

Hawke led the charge, going toe to toe with Meredith as Aveline, Fenris, and Cullen surrounded her at close range while the others assaulted her from a distance. The Knight-Commander drew power from the red lyrium forged into her sword, making her armor nearly indestructible and giving her unnatural strength and speed. The force with which she struck Hawke reminded her of her fight against the Arishok. With each block and parry, Hawke felt the uncanny heat of the lyrium emitted from the sword like it was fresh off the forge. When Meredith struck her with a downward swing strong enough to push her sword down, the tip of the red blade caught the edge of her gorget and nicked her chin. It shouldn’t have hurt, but the cut burned like a splash of acid on her skin—and that pissed her off. 

A fireball that struck Meredith’s back and singed her hair drew her attention away from Hawke with an unbridled burst of rage. She turned and darted across the courtyard to strike at Bethany, but Samson blocked her path. 

“Traitor! You’re a disgrace!” Meredith shouted, swinging wildly to try to get past him. 

Serenity was focused on sustaining spells that empowered Hawke, but her concentration broke when Meredith went after the mage. She holstered her staff on her back and reached out toward Samson as she drew her hands up, drawing on the primordial energy of the Fade to materialize a sheet of frost in the air that coalesced into a thick wall of ice. Meredith hacked at the wall until Cullen bashed her back with his shield, knocking her into it. 

"Why?! Why would you defend these mages?!” Meredith shrieked. “They are an infection upon all humanity!” She swung at Cullen as he drew her back down the stairs, growing more frustrated as he blocked every blow with his shield. “You’re too weak to do what must be done!” 

Hawke closed in on her in a frenzy of pain, swinging her great sword with fervor to match the Knight-Commander’s. She let her fury fuel her, lending her the strength and stamina to fight harder. She swung wildly and recklessly, but she beat Meredith back and knocked her down to her knee. 

“Give up, Meredith,” Hawke said, pointing her sword at her as the templars cautiously surrounded her. 

“Maker! Your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!” Meredith cried out and stood up. With a crackle of red energy, she leapt back with supernatural strength and retreated to the platform between the stairs, breathing hard. Holding her sword, she pulled energy from the red lyrium inside and pushed it outwards, creating barriers at the stairs that blocked anyone from pursuing her. Only Alain and M.C. stood on the other side of it with her. 

“Stay!” Serenity shouted and signed with her hand, seeing how M.C. was about to lunge for the Knight-Commander. Alain grabbed him by his collar, though it wouldn’t have stopped him if M.C. didn’t listen. 

“We can’t get through,” Keran said, poking at the barrier with his sword, causing it to crackle and spark. 

“Stand back!” Cullen warned him. 

The ground rumbled as the statue of Andraste on the right side of the stairs creaked and ached into life with stiff disjointed movements. 

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Hawke sighed. 

"No one is going to believe this when I tell stories about it," Varric said.

"How...? How is she doing that?" Cullen asked. It was one thing for the red lyrium to drive his Knight Commander mad, it was something else entirely to grant her such supernatural power. Lyrium granted templars their abilities, but they weren't capable of such feats. Only mages had that kind of power at their disposal.

"It's the idol," Varric answered. "Just a chip is strong enough to move the furniture around a house and let a horde of demons in to throw a soiree. My guess is she just invited a demon to possess that statue."

"A demon?" Cullen repeated. "But how could she—” 

“The veil was already thin here,” Serenity said. “Raw lyrium provides a connection to the Fade. She’s tearing this place apart. We’re lucky if we face only one demon. She would attract Pride.”

"Guys? A little less talking, a little more killing?" Hawke suggested as the brass giant crushed the concrete underneath its feet on its way down to fight them. 

“How are we supposed to fight this thing?” Aveline asked, raising her shield as she struck at the statue’s leg with her sword. “Trying to cut these down will only dull our blades!” 

Bethany held a feather of a flame over her palm that grew, pulling wisps of fire around it until it was a solid mass of molten heat, and threw it at the back of the guardian statue’s head, causing it to pitch forward. It didn’t slow it down, however, as it jerked its arms, swinging its swords at those close enough to reach. 

“Cast from Spirit!” Serenity shouted. “We’re not fighting the statue but the demon within!”

“You heard her!” Cullen shouted, signaling for his templars to close in on the statue as Hawke and Aveline moved back. Their righteous smites staggered the statue, bringing it to its knees—or so it seemed. 

Serenity heard a grinding noise that suggested it was winding up and ran into the fray to cast Hand of Winter, freezing the statue at the joints. She grabbed Cullen’s arm as the ice around the statue began to crack and crumble. “Get back!”

“Fall back!” Cullen shouted as he backed up. “Leighton! Move!” 

The templar swinging at the back of the statue’s knee with his telekinetically charged sword was either too focused or simply unable to hear the order behind the noise. When the statue broke free of it’s cold encasing, its top half spun rapidly, swiping the head off the templar that stood too close. When the statue stood upright again, the templars closed in on it and brought it crashing down with another barrage of righteous smites. Fenris went in for the killing blow with a flare of dark energy as he charged through the statue like a wraith, decimating the demon housed inside it. 

“You dared rise up against me, Champion! Now you will feel the sting of the Maker’s wrath!” Meredith shouted as she sprinted across the courtyard to meet Hawke. 

Bethany and Merrill boldly moved closer to assist Hawke with a plethora of spells that augmented her strength and energy. When Meredith turned on Merrill, Keran blocked her path and held steadfast before an arrow whizzed by the Knight-Commander’s face and nicked her ear, stunning her and drawing her attention away from him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zevran called out from his perch on top of the adjacent building. “You know one could see that explosion all the way from Sundermount?” 

“Nice of you to join us,” Isabela called back. 

Serenity knew that silky voice and Antivan accent anywhere. “I hope that arrow had a poisoned tip or I’ll be disappointed, Zev.” 

“Serenity!” Zevran beamed, “I should have known I would find you here. Where there are demons running rampant and mages in distress, there you are, a lovely flower in the wreckage.”

“Bianca is not happy. That red lyrium has been repelling her bolts left and right,” Varric sighed, feeling rather left out of the fight as Hawke brought Meredith to her knees again. “How’d you do it, elf?” 

“Lucky shot, my friend,” Zevran answered. “In truth, I was aiming for the back of her neck.” 

“She’s doing it again!” Bethany yelled as Meredith retreated and collected the energy from within her sword to give life to the other statue of Andraste. “Does she have any idea what she’s doing?!”

“She’s lost her mind,” Aveline reminded her.

“This is no better than blood magic!” 

The templars led the attack on the statue as soon as it stepped down from the higher platform but kept their distance so the swords wouldn’t reach them when it knelt down to spin again. Bethany followed Serenity’s earlier example and drew on the moisture in the air and the cold from the Fade to cast Winter’s Breath on the guardian. It slowed only briefly, but with the templars’ righteous smites and Fenris’ spirit pulse, the statue dropped to a knee. 

“You just had to say that thing about us being lucky, didn’t you?” Isabela said and pointed at the possessed statues of slaves as they climbed down to join the fight. “We’ve got company.” 

“Samson, Hugh!” Cullen shouted and pointed at the slaves across the courtyard. “Keep those demons off the mages!” 

Merrill petrified one of the slaves, encasing it in stone before shattering it with Stonefist. Swirls of green energy emitted from her palms and shot into the nearest slave like an arrow, poisoning it with a curse. 

Cullen stood in front of Serenity, blocking the statue of Andraste as it stood up to swing one of its four swords down on them. Serenity reached through the Fade and grasped the giant guardian’s arms with Crushing Prison to tear it apart before throwing the lifeless hunks of brass at the group of slave statues climbing down from the pillars beside them. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered, watching as the statue of Andraste fell apart. He had never seen her, or anyone else for that matter, perform a spell like that before. 

“There’s so many of them!” Isabela shouted as the other slave statues climbed down from beside the stairs and dropped to their feet from the pillars lining the courtyard. 

“Die, damn you!” Merrill yelled as the group of possessed slaves enclosing on her and Bethany exploded like Walking Bombs. 

Serenity was so preoccupied with taking down the possessed statues, she didn’t notice Meredith had joined the fight behind her, meeting Hawke blow for blow. When Meredith was surrounded, she supercharged an energetic blast to knock everyone back. Hawke braced herself and stayed on her feet, as did Aveline and Cullen, but the force of the blast pitched Serenity forward and threw her across the stone floor. 

It felt like Mindblast, a spell Serenity had cast many times before to bring rogues out of stealth—only that was a spell she could resist. Whatever it was Meredith did, it was much stronger than even she was capable of. Dazed, she rolled over on her side as she tried to regain her bearings and saw some of the others getting to their feet—some slower than others. Their voices sounded distant like they were underwater.

“Serenity!” Cullen stood over her as he blocked a brass giant from stomping on her while she was down. He swung his sword with a staggering smite, but there were too many statues lumbering towards them for him to fight alone. 

Serenity rose to her feet as Alain cast spells that took away her pain and discomposure. She drank a lyrium potion before casting invigorating aura, channeling her spell into Cullen to give him strength, then raised her hands in the air to draw cold from the Fade. The hurricane she manifested was powerful enough to knock the statues off their feet and freeze them on the ground, but the weather didn’t differentiate between friend or foe. The biting cold didn’t affect her, but the other templars retreated from the cold snap and hailstones. Only Cullen remained in the throes of frost, resistant to the elements thanks in part to the Spellward around his neck.

“It’s not enough that they make innocents suffer! No! We must also have insult added to injury!” Meredith shouted. “Spare the mages, give them freedom? They would use it to tear down everything we hold dear!”

Cullen turned to shield Serenity from the shock wave that Meredith discharged with her sword, but even he found himself stumbling back from the force of it. Somehow, Hawke remained on her feet, dizzied from the blast but all the more pissed off by it. 

“Why is this taking so long…? Can one so evil truly be so powerful?” Meredith lamented, slowing down to catch her breath. “Maker, guide your humble servant. Please, tell me what I must do. What if… I’m not doing the right thing? What if this is all madness?”

“Knight-Commander,” Cullen called out, keeping his shield held high. “It’s not too late to stop this. If you would just lay down your sword—” 

“No! I must remain vigilant!” Meredith shouted, turning in a circle as she wielded her sword to keep the encroaching swordsmen at bay. “I tried to have sympathy. Maker knows I have tried! But how can we allow freedom when so many of them would use it to commit atrocities? They control minds, they become abominations, they began the Blight itself!”

With the possessed statues neutralized, everyone turned their attention on Meredith. The mages focused their spells on her, wearing her down as Hawke beat her back towards the stairs. It wasn’t long before she didn’t have any fight left in her. She was outnumbered and overpowered, even with the idol in her hands. It wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter: Mike Oldfield - Nuclear, Woodkid - Run Boy Run


	31. Until Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity remains in the Gallows when Hawke and the others leave.

As Meredith desperately tried to harness the deeper power of the red lyrium, it overwhelmed and consumed her in her weakened state, until she let out a long, agonized scream and her body distorted into petrified stone, still glowing with red veins like molten embers. The courtyard fell silent as she did.

When Samantha approached her to investigate, Cullen ordered, “Stay back. Don’t touch her.” 

Samantha withdrew her hand, noticing the glowing tendrils of red energy reaching for her fingertips, and backed away. “Lyrium did this to her…?”

The templars that had been standing by drew their swords and closed in around the group uncertainly. Cullen realized he still held his sword and sheathed it. He had no intention of arresting Hawke after all that transpired. That had only been the compromise he’d tried to convince Meredith to come to. 

“Stand down,” Cullen ordered, gesturing for his soldiers to back up. 

Hawke looked around as the circle parted, giving her a wider berth, and exchanged looks with Cullen before walking away. She was relieved he didn’t stop her from taking her sister with her. Or maybe he was so distracted by all that happened and all the responsibilities he was now saddled with that he didn’t notice Bethany follow her to the boat. 

Serenity remained where she stood, her gaze lingering on Cullen with quiet admiration. She wasn’t ready to leave yet. There was too much she wanted to say and so much that needed to be done. The veil was dangerously thin in the courtyard, and she imagined there might be a tear in need of closing in the mages’ quarters, much like the tears she found in the basement of Kinloch Hold. When Cullen felt her stare and met her eyes, he glanced towards Hawke as if to suggest she follow. 

“Warden?” Alain asked quietly.

“Take my dog and go with the others,” she said. “Find Nate and tell him I'll meet up with you at the Storm Coast. I'm staying here for the time being. But I'll join you before nightfall.” 

“Okay, I will,” Alain answered and jogged to catch up to Hawke before they departed from the dock. 

“Warden,” Cullen addressed her, clearing his throat quietly. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I know,” she said, aware that all eyes were on her. “But I want to help. I can help your men gather the dead or assist in taking account of whoever remains. Utilize me however you wish.” 

She watched as Cullen gathered the remaining templars and set them to task, prioritizing a sweep of the Gallows to clear the several floors of any remaining demons and abominations while others were assigned to escort the mages back to their cells—beginning with the four mages that had been taken to the dungeon. The infirmary would be overcrowded, spilling out into the main hall, but provided the mages with knowledge of healing spells were willing to assist the templars, he surmised any injured could be treated and released in quick succession. The last group was sent inside to retrieve the bodies of the dead. Any abominations were to be dealt with separately—to be burned by the mages, probably. 

“The dead need to be dealt with quickly,” Cullen said, “but we can’t gather the bodies until the tower is clear of immediate threats. With all the death and blood magic the Circle has seen today, demons could still eke through and possess the corpses. I’ve seen it before. Be wary as you step around them.” 

Serenity remembered how many shambling corpses she had faced in the Ferelden Circle and wondered how many of his friends he saw rise from the dead, their bodies possessed by demons of rage. He spoke pragmatically as he issued his orders and the templars obeyed without any need for clarification. She paid attention to which lieutenants he assigned to lead, though she couldn’t match their faces to their names with their helmets hiding them. As the knights dispersed on their assignments until there was no one left to delegate to, she was relieved not to have been sent with somebody else. 

“What would you have of me?” she asked softly, watching as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. It was still dark and the night air was cool against her damp skin, but he was covered in layers and a sheen a sweat. She offered him the waterskin from her belt as she tried not to imagine dismantling his armor for him.

“Can you take me to the First Enchanter?” he asked, his tone softening considerably from how he had addressed the others, and took the waterskin from her without thinking to look around first. He hadn’t realized it until he drank, but his voice was growing hoarse from how parched he was. 

“This way,” she answered and climbed the stairs beside him. Even though the templars were busy, she spoke quietly to prevent anyone from overhearing what she had to say. “Cullen, I am... so proud of you. You're a fair and honest man. The Circle is in better hands with you leading the templars."

Cullen felt her eyes on him and handed back her waterskin as he stammered, “I, ah… I only wish it were under better circumstances. I looked up to Meredith. But I won’t follow her example. I allowed myself to be influenced by her for too long, and I regret that now.” 

“Word of what happened here will spread across Thedas,” Serenity said. “I wonder how it will affect the other Circles.”

“The templars will tighten their grip,” Cullen predicted. “Just as they did when word spread of what happened in Ferelden. I hope what happened here doesn’t give the mages confidence to rebel in the other Circles. Diplomacy and a willingness to compromise will get them further than revolting. I can’t say how far, but it is better than the alternative.” 

“Perhaps,” Serenity said. “But there was no willingness to compromise with the mages here.” 

“Change is needed and it will come,” Cullen said. “With the death of the Grand Cleric, I expect the Divine will call a conclave. She has pushed for reform before. Some disagree with her compassion, but it is in her power to see it happen.”

Serenity hoped he was right. She stopped after she led Cullen past the trail of bodies leading into the mages’ quarters. “This is Orsino,” she said, turning to face him, afraid of what conclusions he might come to. She would understand his paranoia if he did believe the majority of the Circle had been corrupted. 

Cullen stepped around the body of the Harvester in silence as he examined it, having never seen any abomination like it before—and he thought he had seen all kinds. “Maker… What did he do…?” 

“A spell he didn’t teach to anybody else,” she said. “He learned it from a blood mage named Quentin.” 

“The necromancer from Starkhaven. Ser Emeric was investigating him,” Cullen recalled. “You’re certain Orsino didn’t share this knowledge with any of his pupils?” 

“He said it was too evil,” Serenity answered. “But he thought it was the only way to fight Meredith. We couldn’t let him leave here alive, not like that.”

Cullen sighed and looked away from the amalgamation of corpses and said, “I’ll have to send a missive to the Divine and another to the Knight-Commander at Ostwick. If I am to gain the trust of these mages, they should have a First Enchanter to represent them.”

“You would allow them that?” Serenity asked, surprised. 

“Ordinarily, the First Enchanter would name a successor,” Cullen said. “Orsino did not have one. I cannot allow the senior enchanters to elect one of their own after what happened here. The libertarians, if any remain, will speak louder than everybody else and they’ll be heard. I will have to request a liaison from the Circle in Ostwick, someone who will be cooperative but also garner the mages’ respect.” 

“Not a loyalist then,” Serenity said and smiled. Her heart swelled with affection, her spirits only dampened by the inward reminder that she could not be there to witness him bring the Circle back to order. She had to leave again. 

“No,” he said. “An aequitarian, most likely. If it weren’t inappropriate, I would ask you to stay.”

“I wish I could,” she said quietly. Nothing would make her happier than to see him every day. She could teach and influence the mages there, and she could help him weed out the worst templars. Being the First Enchanter of the Circle with him as the Knight-Commander would also fulfill her longest held fantasy. “I know you're going to have your hands full for the next several months. I'm sure Aveline will assist you in maintaining order across the harbor. You have no easy task ahead of you without a viscount, but I learned the Left Hand of the Divine was here. I'm sure it won't be long before you receive guidance from Her Holiness.” 

“The Divine sent somebody?” Cullen asked, surprised. If Meredith knew about the Left Hand’s presence in the city, she hadn’t shared it with him. 

“Sister Nightingale,” Serenity said. “A friend of mine. It seems she was here to investigate whether the mages were getting out of hand. If I had been here sooner, perhaps I could have had a word with her. I wonder if she was sent because of Greagoir.” 

“Knight-Commander Greagoir? How would he be involved?” 

“I spoke with him a few months ago. He’s retired, living in Denerim. I told him what was happening here. After what Alrik did, I… I needed his help to understand what I was feeling,” she confessed. “I felt like I was going mad.” 

“What was he like?” Cullen asked. "I have a hard time picturing him providing any words of comfort when he was so adamant we couldn't allow ourselves to feel anything for mages."

“He listened. He didn't treat me like a mage,” she said. When she was an apprentice, Greagoir had spoken to her with a cold indifference that, at the time, Cullen just couldn’t imitate. But he was different now. "He forgot some things though. He didn’t know who Ser Ivan was anymore.”

“Oh,” Cullen said quietly. 

A girl descending the stairs from one of the upper floors of the mages’ quarters stopped on the landing and stared at Serenity in astonishment. “You!” 

“Go back to your cell, Ciara,” Cullen ordered. “The fighting is over. We’ve a lot to do to make this place livable again.” 

“Knight-Captain, ser, that mage, she’s a demon or… or a blood mage!” 

Serenity recognized her then as the mage whose Harrowing she’d intruded upon.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

  


“Why would you say that?” Cullen asked, his tone harder than he intended it to be. He thought the accusation preposterous, but he also knew she was present in the mages’ quarters during the uprising while he was outside trying to talk Meredith down. 

“She was there!” Ciara said and pointed at her. “She was in my Harrowing!” 

“What…? That’s impossible,” Cullen said and looked at Serenity. The cringe that scrunched up her face said otherwise. “Maker’s breath…” he sighed and facepalmed. “How?” 

“It was an accident,” Serenity started. 

“She was talking to a demon!” Ciara said, backing up the steps. “Be careful, Knight-Captain. She’s powerful. I can tell. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s possessed by a demon of Pride.” 

“Cut it out,” Serenity warned her. “I’m not possessed, nor am I demon. I was dreaming. All people go to the Fade when they dream.” 

“Nobody has ever broken into the Harrowing chamber in a dream,” Cullen said, taking her by the arm to lead her away from the stairwell so he could speak with her in private—as private as he could manage in the middle of the mages’ quarters. He knew very well how sound carried to the cells from that platform. It was where the First Enchanter addressed them en mass. 

“I was lucid,” Serenity explained. “I didn’t know I was breaking into the Harrowing chamber. I saw a door and I opened it. Or… rather, broke it down with a boulder.” 

Cullen furrowed his brow, trying to wrap his head around what she just purported to do. If it wouldn’t have been totally inappropriate, Serenity might have laughed at the look on his face as he tried to imagine her picking up a boulder like an ant carrying a pebble. He only knew the Fade was where he relived his worst nightmares and occasionally a pleasant memory that left him with a feeling of nostalgia. The only thing he knew of lucid dreaming was that mages capable of the feat without lyrium were considered dangerous—and dangerous mages were made Tranquil. 

“Did you use lyrium?” he asked quietly. 

“No, but it doesn’t happen often,” Serenity said. “It’s rare but completely normal for a person to sometimes realize something isn’t right, that what they’re experiencing isn’t real. For me, it was hearing Alrik say something Greagoir once said. I would never forget that those words belonged to him.” 

“You… dreamt about Alrik?” Cullen asked gently. Whatever his instincts as a templar, they gave way to compassion. He remembered how shallow her breathing was even as it hitched with her sobs against his hand. It pained him to think about it, worse to know she experienced it again when she slept. 

Serenity nodded and assured him, “I’m not possessed. In fact, I spent that whole night slaying demons. They feed off the emotions and memories of dreamers. That’s how I… ah…” 

“What?” he asked, concerned by her sudden hesitation to continue. She never held back from him. Whatever it was, he had the feeling he wouldn’t approve of it. 

“Not here,” she said. 

As they started back the way from which they came, Cullen locked eyes with Ciara and pointed up the stairs. “Go back to your room. Now.” 

Ciara did as she was told and climbed the steps, looking back over her shoulder at Serenity with suspicion. 

“I can’t fault her for being cautious. That’s how she passed her test,” Serenity said, though she wasn’t fond of being accused. Had she been in the company of any other templar, she probably would not have lived to see another day.

As they passed through the main hall, Cullen overlooked his men carrying out the dead and kept a watchful eye on the corpses they passed in the corridors into the templars’ quarters. Seeing so many bodies of templars, mages, and abominations reminded him of Kinloch Hold, triggering the olfactory memory of charred and decaying flesh, even though the bodies they passed weren’t yet giving way to decomposition. He regretted what occurred in the Gallows, but the sadness he felt was for those he lost in Ferelden’s Circle. 

As they climbed the stairs from the templars’ training hall up to the barracks, Cullen asked, “What was it you were hesitant to say? You said demons feed off the emotions of dreamers.” 

“I found Alain,” Serenity said. “He doesn’t remember meeting me in the Fade, but I saw him. I know why he ran away.” 

“Why?” In spite of Alain’s involvement with the attempted insurrection, he didn’t seem like a bad kid. Cullen’s impression of him was that he was cooperative and non-violent.

“Karras was abusing him. He was just like Alrik. When I found Alain in Darktown, I had to help him. He was going to die if I didn't intervene. Just like Meredith, Karras told me he would kill me if I stood in his way,” Serenity said and raised her chin. “I stood in his way.”

Cullen stopped at the top step and sighed, conflicted at what he thought he was supposed to feel in contrast to how he actually felt. She was so sure of herself and defiant. He had suspected she might have had a hand in Karras’ disappearance when she claimed responsibility for Alain, but he thought it was more likely that Alain had killed him himself when he was cornered and then sought out the Grey Wardens for amnesty. If she were anybody else, he would have had her locked up and interrogated. But as it was, he was relieved she was safe.

He thought he should have been upset or concerned by how blasé she was, speaking about killing a Knight-Lieutenant. But he also knew Karras made no secret of his hatred for mages and his enjoyment in hunting them down. 

“Did you kill Alrik?” he asked, rubbing his brow. He wasn’t sure how he would feel about it if she did. He’d thought about doing it himself, but thinking about it and acting on it were hardly the same thing. 

“What? No,” she answered quickly. “That wasn’t me. I’m glad he’s dead, but I didn’t do it.” 

As discomfited as he was by the thought of her killing templars, he wasn't angry with her. She was a soldier, just like he was, but more than that, she was a good person. He didn't want to think otherwise. If Ser Karras was going to kill Alain rather than bring him back to the Circle, he was not following orders. He was acting out of malice in the same way Alrik had. What Serenity did, he thought, wasn't any different than how he'd stepped between her and Meredith.

"I... understand," he said and continued down the hall toward his room. 

She took his hand, causing him to look over his shoulder, even knowing they were alone. "I don't mean to cause you any undue stress," she said.

"The only moments you caused me stress were when I thought you were in danger," he said. "When Meredith knocked you down and I saw that statue coming for you, I... Maker, it felt like my heart stopped."

"When she first drew her sword on you, I..."

"You were scared," he said, looking down at her hand as he intertwined and spread her fingers with his. "I remember the first time I saw your fingers covered in frost, when you were still an apprentice." 

"I panicked," she said. "When I feel someone is in imminent danger, I cast a Force Field around them. But I thought it would hurt you as much as help you. It's better that I didn't react as quickly as I would have with somebody else. You didn't need me to."

"I'm relieved you went against your instincts," he said quietly. She was right about that spell. He had seen it practiced, but the thought of being trapped inside a magical barrier, paralyzed and powerless, might have made him feel violated. He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to breathe. "If you hadn't, I might have lost my focus and Meredith would have turned her anger on you."

"I promise not to cast that spell unless it's absolutely necessary," she said. “But I would do anything to protect you.”

"Not unless I'm on my back being mauled by a bear," he said and withdrew his hand from hers when he heard footsteps pass at the bottom of the stairs around the corner. 

Serenity chuckled softly and felt her lips tremble as her eyes fell to his hand. "Please don't get hurt," she whispered.

Cullen could hear the restraint in her voice now as much as he'd seen it in her on the stairs to the courtyard. He wanted to touch her just as badly as she ached to hold his hand. "I wear plate armor and chainmail, enchanted with resistance to magic. Meredith's sword wouldn't have cut me down, even with the lyrium infused into the blade," he assured and lifted her chin so she would meet his gaze. "And I still wear the Spellward."

"I love you," Serenity whispered as she wrapped her hands around his wrist. 

“I love you, too," Cullen answered quietly as he leaned down to meet her lips with a gentle kiss. "I'm grateful you're here. You could have answered me with a letter, but you came."

"I only wish I could stay," she said hesitantly. "I have to leave for the Deep Roads. I have to go as far as Ferelden, but I promise I’ll come back and I’ll tell you everything."

Cullen sighed softly as he glanced out the window at the end of the corridor. He knew he would lose her again, but he didn’t know it would be so soon. He would be too busy to see her anyway, he thought, too preoccupied with restoring order to the Circle and stability to the city. It was too much to hope for her to be by his side through it all when she wasn’t supposed to be there even now. He’d distracted her from her duties to the Wardens and felt selfish for it. More selfish for wishing she could stay. 

“It won’t always be like this,” she said, turning his cheek to look at her. “Once I find what I’m looking for, I can rest. It hurts every time I have to say goodbye and walk away. But I’m getting close.” 

“You’re the Commander of the Grey Wardens. I always knew your duty would call you back to Ferelden,” he said and continued walking beside her to his room. “I only hope it won’t be years before I see you again.” 

Serenity stepped into his room ahead of him after he opened the door and said, “It may be a few months before I can write, but once I’m able to come back up for air, I’ll send you a letter. I will come back to you.” 

“Knight-Captain,” a templar called out from the end of the corridor as she approached. “We’ve cleared the Gallows of any remaining abominations. There were a few rebel mages that fought back, but we sent them to the dungeons, except for the one who resorted to blood magic.” 

“Good. Assist those in the infirmary,” he ordered. “I’m going to write missives to the Divine and the Knight-Commander in Ostwick. I’ll be down to speak with the mages in the dungeon afterwards. You’re dismissed.” 

“Yes, ser.” 

Cullen closed the door behind him, relieved Serenity had moved out of the hallway before somebody saw them alone together. Even though they wouldn’t question her presence there, it would raise suspicion and lead to speculation. Those that were paying attention knew she was a Grey Warden, but everyone could see she was still a mage. 

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he crossed the room to his desk covered in scattered reports and letters. “They’re still fighting,” he said. 

“They’re scared,” Serenity said, hooking the latch to lock the door.

“I know,” he said sullenly as he set his palms against the desk and he looked over all that he had to do—and knew this wasn’t half of it now that he was acting Knight-Commander. On the bright side, it was to his discretion which reports were worth looking into. Meredith had the templars reporting even the most minor infractions. Most of what littered his desk could be used as kindling. “I can’t change the way they feel overnight. I only hope I can make this place bearable.” 

“You will,” Serenity said, joining him behind his desk.


	32. The Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW content!

“How does one address the Divine when writing a letter?” Cullen asked. He smiled when Serenity sat against the edge of his desk and felt some of his stress melt away in her presence.

“’To Her Excellency, Divine Justinia,’ or ‘To Her Holiness,’” Serenity answered and watched him unroll a blank parchment to stare at it pensively as he considered what he would write. "You’re wearing your concentration face. You get this little wrinkle between your brows. It kind of looks like that vellum did something to offend you.” 

Cullen looked up at her and chuckled, “There’s a lot to say, and I don’t want to waste parchment with revisions.”

“Cullen, before you begin, there’s something else I want to tell you,” she said hesitantly. 

The way she looked up at him then reminded him of how she’d looked at him the last time she stood in his room. She looked lovely as she bit her bottom lip nervously and a blush colored her cheeks, assuaging any worry he might have had about what she had to say. 

“You, ah… you do?” he asked, considering the color on her face could have been from climbing the stairs and standing beside the sconce on the wall. 

“You make me weak in the knees when you look at me. You always have,” she said as the color spread from her cheeks to her ears. “Hearing how assertive you were earlier, when you were taking charge and giving orders, I… really wanted to get you alone again. I’d like it if you took charge again right now… with me.” 

“You… oh.” Cullen felt the weight of her words as a rush of arousal pulsated through him and a wave of heat rose through his skin. He glanced down at his desk, a mess of parchments, and let the heap of responsibilities he’d internally started obsessing over rest at the wayside. Whatever he had rehearsed for the letter to the Divine fell apart as soon as Serenity spoke and his head started swimming with desire. Even though it was only for a moment, she saw him look at the parchment on his desk. He didn't want her to think— 

“Sorry,” Serenity started uncertainly. “I know you have a lot to do..."

Cullen pushed the collection of reports aside to clear his desk before closing the gap between them. When he held her by her waist and lifted her to sit on the surface of his desk, she held his arms and tilted her head back, inviting him to kiss her. He pressed his lips to hers reassuringly; he wanted this as much as she did. He missed her just as much as she missed him.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” he said, reminded he only had a few hours with her before she had to leave. It was always for too long. But no time apart was long enough for him to forget how she felt and how she made him feel. There was no other feeling like it. 

As his hand followed the curve of her hip and rested on her thigh, she tugged at the red sash affixed around his waist and kissed him hard, encouraging him to return her fervor. The course leather of his glove brushed against her skin as he slid his fingers under the hem of her skirt, and the cold metal of his gauntlet scraped against her bottom as he gripped her underwear and gently slid it down her thighs. When she broke their kiss with an involuntary moan, Cullen felt his breath hitch at the sound that escaped her and remembered how much he’d longed to hear it again. He kissed her, brushing his lips softly against hers so not to stifle her labored breaths, but she pressed back harder. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from her bare thigh to unbuckle the tassets at his hips and let them fall to the ground with a clatter. When he felt Serenity’s hands parting his robe at the hip, he pushed it aside, tucking it beneath the side of his cuirass to keep it out of the way. 

  


Serenity softened the pressure of her lips against his and opened her eyes to look up at him as she unbuttoned his trousers to free his erection straining against the fabric. He let out a pleasured sigh as she wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked him gently. She brushed her lips against his cheek as she parted her legs for him and gasped softly when he gripped her hips and dragged her to the edge of the desk. 

She felt a surge of arousal pool in her belly and tingle between her legs, accompanied by a shadow of apprehension because she hadn’t been physically intimate with him in years and they didn’t have any extra lubrication on hand. But she was already wet, eager to feel him inside her and hear him grunt and moan as he made love to her. He crushed her lips in a kiss as he leaned into her and she stabilized herself with her hand behind her on the desk as she planted a foot against the drawers. She closed her eyes, sighing softly as he pressed the engorged head of his shaft between her lips to wet it with her fluids. 

This was what she wanted, what she dreamed of—for him to break the rules and give in to the same primal need she felt for him. He had always been more reserved and disciplined than she was, but now, it felt like they were equals. She doubted she would have felt the same way if she were First Enchanter. What they had now was better than that. She opened her eyes to look up at him as he slid his hand from her bunched up skirt at her hip to hold her thigh, keeping her leg parted as he pressed into her and penetrated her slowly. She bit her lip with a shaky breath, keenly aware of how firmly he held her waist in his other hand, sending tendrils of pleasure teasing through her core. There was some resistance to the pressure between her legs, but he moved slowly in short strokes until the friction between them was soothed by her arousal coating his shaft. 

“Cullen,” Serenity moaned softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair. When he wrapped his arm around the small of her back and leaned over her to cover her hand on his desk, she hooked her leg behind his hip. The tension between her legs deepened with the weight of his armor pressed hard against her chest and the heat of his breath tickling her ear as he pressed his lips against her cheek and grunted softly. She felt a strain in her hips as she spread her legs wider, taking him inside her as deeply as her body would allow. 

He thrust into her with long, languid strokes, reveling in the soft moans that escaped her between labored breaths and shaky gasps. She could tell he liked the sounds she made, even as restrained as they were. She felt her legs begin to tremble, but he slipped his arm under her knee to support her as he reached up with his other hand to hold the back of her head. Her met her lips in another fervid kiss as she adjusted to his length inside her. 

Serenity whimpered with a broken moan, breaking their impassioned kiss as he thrust harder and deeper, giving up some of the restraint he’d shown before. She held onto his forearm to keep herself upright and met his eyes with uninhibited pleasure and affection. He felt so good inside her, pushing apart her walls with each firm thrust. The friction against her clitoris teased her toward climax, and she held her breath as she inadvertently squeezed him inside her. He slowed, groaning softly at the sensation, and let his hand fall to her slender waist. 

She grazed her teeth against his chin, demanding his attention to her lips, and kissed him between heavy breaths. Reaching between her legs, she massaged her sensitive bud and tensed rigidly as pleasure swept through her, made all the more powerful by the force behind his hips. She lay back on his desk, accidentally knocking the candleholder and pile of books off the edge so they fell to the floor. Her body shuddered with wave after wave of pleasure as the tension that built up inside found release. 

Cullen grunted and closed his eyes as she massaged him inside her, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his own climax. He lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, pinning her legs against his sides, and pushed through the contractions of her orgasm until he found his own release inside her. He gently lowered her bottom to rest at the edge of his desk and planted his hands beside her as he let out a deep sigh. He noticed her smiling as she slowly sat up to caress his cheek and wrap her arm lazily around the back of his neck, with his sensitive member still throbbing inside her. 

“Was that…?” 

“The best I’ve ever felt?” she asked, idly tracing the engraved sword on his breastplate. “Yes.” 

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen chuckled and rested his forehead against hers as he felt the tension melt away. “Me too.”

Serenity affectionately nuzzled his nose with hers and said, “I’m going to miss you… Knight-Commander.” 

  


He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head affectionately, reminded of all the times she had suggested he would make a fine commander, beginning with when she still wore her apprentice robes. It was one of the first times she’d made him blush, though he’d tried not to take her flattery to heart. Very few mages gave the templars so much thought. It still made his heart race to think about how she saw him… and how he felt about her. 

“Ow,” she whispered. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly, realizing the pauldron on his shoulder was digging into her chin, and pulled away. He brushed his thumb over the little red mark on her skin and smiled. 

“It’s okay,” she said, combing his hair back into place with her fingers. His skin was still flush with color and dampened with sweat. If anyone should knock on the door now, she wasn’t sure how he would explain himself if they asked. 

“Will you stay a while longer?” he asked, noticing the morning light filtering in through the windows. He carefully withdrew from her to button up his trousers and smoothed out his robe as she slid off the edge of his desk to retrieve her underwear. He opened a drawer for a handkerchief and wiped away the evidence of their tryst from the surface of his desk, feeling the heat return to his cheeks as he did. 

“I plan to stay a few more hours,” she answered. “But I will need to rest before nightfall. I’m not sure the state of the Hanged Man. Perhaps I could sleep in a bed in the mages’ quarters?” 

“Of course,” Cullen answered and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly becoming aware that his eyes were burning from a lack of sleep. He often lost track of time when he focused on completing a task—or, as often was the case, a pile of tasks set upon his desk or handed off to him in the courtyard. The adrenaline of battle and the excitement of what followed still had his body buzzing with energy, but he knew he would need to recharge for at least an hour or two after breakfast—if he even found the time the eat. 

“What are you planning to do in the long-term?” Serenity asked and went to straightening his desk and replacing the items that ended up strewn about the floor as he adjusted the tassets to his cuirass and tied the red sash around his waist. 

Cullen tried to blink away the burning in his eyes and retrieved a blank parchment from the end of his desk as he sat down to pen his letter to the Divine. 

“I’ll have to call on Aveline,” he said. “I know Meredith overstepped her bounds when Viscount Dumar was killed. She tried to have me to do the same. But the templars are meant to serve the Circle, not reign over the entire city. I would try to maintain order here while the Guard Captain restores order over there. But I’d like to work together and provide assistance when she needs it.” 

“I’m sure she would be happy to hear she has your support and that you won’t be stepping on her toes,” Serenity said and pulled up a chair to sit across his desk from him. “Meredith was acting viscount, wasn’t she?” 

“She never had Dumar replaced, citing everyone else as incompetent,” Cullen answered as he began writing. “She delegated all of the work to the city guard, under the authority of the templars. In the beginning, the nobles were quiet, but after a few months, Orsino convinced them to speak out. We didn’t think a mage could sway the people, but that just goes to show how few approved of her methods. For the most part, she ignored whatever concerns or complaints ended up on her doorstep.” 

“Now that doorstep is yours,” Serenity said, concerned. “Don’t wear yourself too thin.” 

“I don’t want any part of the politics between the nobles vying for power now that Meredith is gone. They’ll need to elect a new viscount,” Cullen said, shaking his head. 

“Well, at least the Free Marcher nobles aren’t as cutthroat and duplicitous as the Orlesians, right?” 

“I wouldn’t know, to be honest,” Cullen said, signing the bottom of the letter. “No one stood up to Meredith, but she was…” 

“A tyrant?” 

“Without someone to fear, the nobles may be bolder than you’re giving them credit for. One way to avoid the political mayhem would be to propose the Champion as viscount,” Cullen said, rubbing his temple as he reached for another parchment to begin his letter to the Knight-Commander of the Circle of Magi in Ostwick. He would have to write the Knight-Commander in Starkhaven too. They had templars and no mages. “We should establish new leadership before anyone gets any ideas about taking advantage of the fragile state Kirkwall is in. I think Hawke would effectively deter anyone from making a move against the city—or her.” 

“You don’t think some of those snooty nobles would throw a fit about a Ferelden being viscount? It feels like any time I open my mouth, the Free Marchers have something to say about the smell of dog on me. In the same breath, they accuse me of stealing their jobs.” 

Cullen chuckled, raising his eyes from the parchment, “You do keep a dog though.” 

“Whom I bathe regularly,” Serenity said pointedly, crossing her arms before resting them against the edge of his desk. “They’re just lucky he’s usually with Varric or Petunia when we’re here, so he didn’t hear their slight. They’d be walking around with holes in the back of their breeches.” 

“Well, with the influx of refugees during the blight, the city saw a rise in crime and poverty. Most of those refugees either moved on or established their roots here, but Ferelden never had very close ties to the Free Marches,” Cullen said. “Ferelden or not, Hawke defeated a tyrant and chased away the Qunari. She saved this city twice—that they know of. I know she’s done much more than they give her credit for. Though, probably not as much as Varric would give her credit for.” 

“She did slay a dragon,” Serenity said and picked up the first letter he wrote to read. 

  
_To Her Holiness, Divine Justinia V,_

_A tragedy befell Kirkwall today when an apostate caused an explosion in the Chantry in Hightown. I relieved Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard of her command when she enacted the right of Annulment without just cause. Those mages that fought back were either subdued or purged. The rest surrendered without incident. We are still assessing the damages and I am reaching out to the nearest Circle of Magi for reinforcements._

_I regret to report Meredith died in battle after being driven mad and consumed by red lyrium. Her body remains in the courtyard, waiting to be removed, but there is some risk in coming into contact with the substance that has overtaken her. I await your command, Your Excellency._

_Knight-Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford_

  
“How is it?” he asked as she lowered the letter.

“You have a middle name?” Serenity asked, looking up from the parchment. 

“I… yes,” he answered and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Was that really what she honed in on? “A reminder of where I came from. Honnleath, the town with the man made of stone. Or… woman. Shale, was it?” 

“Yes, Shale,” Serenity smiled and placed the parchment on his desk. “Your letter is well written and succinct.” 

“I figured the fewer words I use, the fewer chances I have of putting my foot in my mouth,” he said. “Or, whatever the written equivalent to that would be.” 

“Is that why it was always so hard to get you talking?” Serenity teased. 

“Yes… I mean,” Cullen said and sighed as he glanced over at the philter set on the corner of his desk. “I’ll admit I sometimes think too much.”

He should have taken it already. Ordinarily he prepared his dose at sunrise as soon as he woke up. If he stayed up all night, he would take it before going to sleep—and rest fitfully for a few short hours. It would help him focus if he took it now, but it was something he never thought he would do in front of Serenity. It could wait until she left, he thought. But he was already starting to feel the pressure of a headache building behind his eyes. 

Serenity smiled and looked at the half-written letter in front of him. “Is that why you haven’t finished your letter to the Knight-Commander?” 

He looked down at the incomplete sentence he’d started and shook his head. “I’m just feeling last night catch up to me.” 

“Want me to sneak into the scullery for you?” Serenity asked, watching as he dipped his pen in the inkwell to continue where he’d left off. 

“I’ll go with you after I finish this and set the seals,” he said. 

Serenity held her hands around the wick of the candle on his desk and summoned a small flame, just enough to light it so they could melt the wax. 

Cullen looked up as she concentrated on the flame, reminded of when she was an apprentice, struggling to make fire. 

“I’d finally pass that damned test,” she said and saw the smile tug at his lips as he continued writing. “What?” 

“I recall you trying to sneak a fire rod from the stockroom so you could cheat on your fire test,” he said. “If somebody else had caught you with it, you would have been sitting in Greagoir’s office.” 

“I wasn’t cheating. I was studying. If a stick can conjure a flame, I should be able to too,” she said. “I just needed to learn with a little bit of help from enchantments.” 

“I’m fairly certain that’s not how that works,” Cullen said and signed the letter before opening a drawer to retrieve the wax and stamp. “Maybe if you’d paid more attention to the Senior Enchanter’s lesson instead of planning your next prank, you wouldn’t have had to ‘study’ so much.” 

“Andraste’s knickers, you sound like Irving. I’ll have you know my pranks are what got me an A on that test,” Serenity said and grinned. “Sweeney wanted a freezy chair, but I did him one better and froze a bath tub.” 

“You—what?” Cullen asked incredulously. “You’re joking. With somebody in it?” 

“Just the tub itself, not the water,” she said. “He had some kind of rivalry with a mage in the school of creation. You should have seen how high she jumped. I guess I’m lucky she didn’t slip and break her neck.” 

Cullen chuckled and rubbed his brow, remembering some of the antics the apprentices got up to in their spare time. It wasn’t like it was now. He had been so young and naïve. The Circle had felt like home. But it would never feel like that again, not in Ferelden, and most certainly not in Kirkwall. Any horseplay would be viewed with suspicion rather than amusement. 

Serenity saw the pensive look that befell his features and rolled up the parchment for him as she slid the candle closer to him. “Are you okay?” she asked, noticing how he glanced over at the box on the corner of his desk. 

“Yes,” he answered and picked up the candle to melt the wax stick over the edge of the parchment as he looked over the flame to see the reflection of the fire flickering in the pale blue of her eyes. She had the loveliest eyes. 

“You’re melting too much wax,” she warned him and moved the parchment out of the path of the drip. 

He quickly sealed it with the stamp and rolled the next letter, surprised at himself for being so easily distracted. “What are you going to do after you leave?” he asked. “I know your organization likes to keep secrets, so I try not to ask too many questions, but I… worry about the dangers you’ll face in the Deep Roads.” 

“You can ask me anything, Cullen. I don't want to keep secrets from you. There are so many things I've wanted to share with you, but I'm afraid it's not the right time,” she said. “There are some things that will cause you to worry more than not knowing.” 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. It was vague enough that he couldn’t jump to any conclusions, but it filled him with a feeling of dread. “I can wait until you’re ready. But if you’ll allow me one question… does your reason for returning to Ferelden have anything to do with the blight? I've heard the corruption can spread, even after the darkspawn return underground. Lothering is uninhabitable and it sounds like Honnleath might have suffered the same degradation.”

“As far as I know, it's no longer spreading, but the damage is done. We're fortunate not to have suffered the sustained sieges the Anderfels faced that desecrated their land. But it isn't anything to do with the blight or darkspawn that draws me underground,” she answered. “Hawke allowed me to decide the punishment of the apostate that blew up the Chantry.”

“You...?” Cullen asked, nonplussed. “Andraste preserve me. Tell me you didn’t conscript him into the Wardens. I know your order accepts criminals into their ranks.”

“Anders is already a Grey Warden. I conscripted him years ago. That’s why I will be responsible for his retribution. He was a friend of mine. Sometimes, I feel he still is. But he’s not the same man he once was,” Serenity answered, relieved Cullen didn’t accuse her of being too soft. She half-expected him to say ‘and I know you have a tendency to aid apostates.’ 

“Did he turn to blood magic?” Cullen asked uneasily. 

“No, but he is… dangerous,” Serenity said hesitantly. “He’s unstable.” 

“You know where he is?”

“And where he is going,” Serenity answered. “I am exiling him to the Deep Roads. Grey Wardens, at the end of their lives, traditionally go into the Deep Roads and kill as many darkspawn as they can before they expire. We say we're answering our Calling. That is what Anders will do.”

Cullen could have argued with her and demanded she turn Anders over to the templars. He was an apostate, one who committed a crime against the Chantry—and that made him the responsibility of the templars. But he didn't want to argue about whose right it was to see him punished. She was the Commander of the Grey Wardens. He may not have entirely agreed with the punishment she chose, but he respected her decision. Killing the apostate would be easier, but the fate she chose for him was justifiably worse. It was still a death sentence, albeit a slower one. 

It would put his mind at ease to have a templar accompany her, but he knew she would refuse the request. He doubted he had any men to spare as it was. 

“I didn't understand why the Knight-Commander left him there in Lowtown when he was standing right in front of her,” Cullen said, his gaze resting on the philter on his desk. “She could have arrested him... and made a public execution to appease his victims. I still don’t understand why she chose to punish every other mage in the city.” 

“She called us a cancer that needed to be purified with fire and blood,” Serenity reminded him and followed his gaze. “Why do you keep looking at that box?” 

His eyes snapped up to hers, and he cleared his throat, “It’s… I haven’t, ah…” 

“Is it your lyrium?” she asked. “Do you need to take it?”

Even though she’d learned about the templars’ reliance on lyrium, it still made him uncomfortable for her to know so much. “I usually prepare it in the morning,” he admitted reluctantly and looked down at the rolled letter in his hand he still needed to seal. He held the wax stick over the candle that had nearly burned down and sealed the letter with the stamp. 

“You have to prepare it?” she asked curiously.

“Yes, we’re…” Cullen sighed and met her eyes. She was so inquisitive and compassionate, it was more difficult to hide it from her than it was to bare all. “We’re responsible for preparing our daily intake. Over time, we build a tolerance to it, but everybody is different, so we don’t all take the same amount.” 

She sensed his hesitation and asked, “Do you want me to wait outside? I… realize this is something you don’t do in front of people.”

“No, I…” Cullen started and averted his eyes to look down at the box pensively. It shouldn't have bothered him so much that she knew. It was what made him a templar and gave him his power. It wasn't something to be ashamed of; it was a part of who he was. But they both knew it was killing him slowly and someday he wouldn't even remember who he was. 

Serenity leaned across his desk to cup his cheek, drawing his attention to her, and said, "I love you, no matter what. You don't have to share everything with me.”

"But I want to," Cullen said without thinking. He didn’t want her to leave as much as he didn’t want her to see him take it. 

“Do you… hear the song?” Serenity asked as she sat back in her chair. 

“No. Well… sometimes,” he answered. “How do you know about that?” 

“I’ve heard it before,” Serenity answered. “When I ingested too much and it made me sick. It did nothing to ease the raging headache I had from retching on an empty stomach. I heard it during my Harrowing too, briefly as I entered the Fade. I didn’t learn until later what the sound was.” 

Cullen felt his heart drop at the thought of her ill or hungover from drinking too much lyrium. Mages in the Circle seldom had a reason to use lyrium and, at least in the Gallows, they were prohibited from imbibing the potions without being on official Circle business. But he had seen plenty of templars suffer the effects of overdosing. The potions mages used were too potent for templars, but that didn’t stop some of them from smuggling them into the barracks. 

“The dwarves say the Stone sings,” Serenity said. “It’s strange, isn’t it, how lyrium is a bridge to the Fade? It can give magic power… or take it away.” 

Cullen took a deep breath as he became more aware of the humming in his veins. The craving. 

“I heard it when I was in Ferelden, during the blight,” he said. He had gone days without food or water, but the hunger pangs subsided in a day and the dehydration became only an undercurrent of discomfort compared to the deepening ache for lyrium. When he finally found his philter and prepared his draught, the song gave him the peace he so desperately desired. 

“Because you weren’t taking it?” she asked. “When you were trapped?”

“No, it was… after, when I did take it,” he said and reached for the box. He hated his reliance on it now, but he was nothing without it. 

When he opened the box, Serenity leaned over the desk to peer at the contents. “What’s the grinder for? You’re not using raw lyrium, are you?” 

“No, that would kill me,” Cullen answered as he took out the tools to prepare his draught. “We’re provided refined lyrium dust. The grinder is for the embrium. The spoon is to measure out the dosage.” 

  


Serenity watched him go through the motions. She had prepared a lesser lyrium potion before, but she preferred relying on Zevran to whip up whatever they needed. Ironically, she thought he was less likely to poison her than she was. Even with her limited herbalism, she thought the amount of lyrium dust he used seemed meager. “Is that how much you usually take?” she asked. 

Cullen looked up at her as he mixed the contents and said, “I’m taking half.” 

Her heart sank as she visualized how much double would look like and thought about the templars that left the order. She thought about Greagoir. “Are retired templars provided lyrium after they leave?” 

“Yes,” he answered. “Not the same amount they were using when they were on duty but a stipend to prevent them from keeling over. Just enough to… take the edge off. Depending on how much they were using, it might not be enough to make them comfortable.” 

“Is that why you’re taking half?” she asked, wondering if he was trying to ration his lyrium to prevent such a heavy reliance on it. 

“No, I… had a partial dosage earlier, before the fighting started,” he confessed. “But I am taking less than I used to. After what happened at Kinloch Hold, I increased my intake. To feel stronger. But I realized when I came here that I didn’t need that much. I wasn’t sure I could cut back to what I was taking before. I’d already built up a tolerance to it, but I was able to taper the amount over several months.” 

Serenity bit the inside of her cheek as he drank the lyrium, blinking away the tension that brought moisture to her eyes. “You’re stronger now,” she said as he closed the box and put it back in its place.

“I know,” he said and stood up, feeling more alert. It was relaxing and energizing at the same time, chasing away the brain fog the sleepless night had driven in. “I need to see these missives taken before anything else. We should assess the injured in the infirmary and—I still need to speak with the mages in the dungeon.” 

“You forgot about breakfast,” Serenity said as she followed him out to the Main Hall.


	33. The Black Emporium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serenity accompanies Zevran into the Black Emporium.

After taking a nap in the mages’ quarters and reluctantly saying goodbye to Cullen in the courtyard, Serenity left the Gallows. She hoped she could take a bath and find a change of clothes before meeting the others, very much aware of the moisture soaking through her cotton smalls. As she crossed the harbor, she recognized Zevran waiting for her at the docks.

“I was beginning to think I would have to mount a rescue,” Zevran greeted her when she stepped off the ferry.

“I had business with the new Knight-Commander,” Serenity said and smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist to squeeze him in a hug. “I didn’t expect to find you in Kirkwall, Zev.” 

“Oh-ho!” Zevran grinned. “You smell like sex.” 

Serenity felt her whole face burn as she pulled away from him and stammered, “I… I do not—” 

“You are turning the brightest shade of red, my dear,” Zevran chuckled. “Come now, surely you aren’t going to be shy with me. Your business was for pleasure, yes?” 

“Do I really smell like…?” Serenity mumbled as she started walking, afraid maybe somebody else had noticed. 

“The sweet intoxicating smell of lovemaking? Oh, yes,” Zevran answered. “I do hope you weren’t left wanting. The day is still young, no?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Serenity answered, covering her face with both hands to try to calm the flush on her skin. 

“Oh? I forgot how demure you Fereldens can be,” Zevran teased. “I thought, considering the circumstances and how tightly wound the Knight-Captain could be, perhaps it wouldn’t have taken much for you to… release his tension as it were.” 

“Maker’s breath,” Serenity muttered. “It didn’t take much to release mine, if I’m being honest.” 

Zevran laughed, “The thrill of battle is exhilarating, no? To kill or be killed. To rely on one another and move together as one, with an understanding and implicit trust, his body protecting yours, yours exerting energy from your core to empower him—”

“Wait,” Serenity said. “How are you turning fighting into sex?” 

“Oh, that’s the best kind,” Zevran said, raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smile. “I’m not wrong, no? There have been many times I’ve gone into battle and when it was done, I wanted nothing more than to share the bed of a lovely woman… or man, in some cases.” 

“I suppose the fighting might have had something to do with it,” she admitted. “But it was never like that before.”

“Ah ha! I knew it,” Zevran laughed. “Well, I hope I do not have to remind this Knight-Captain of yours to worship you like Andraste herself. He should kneel before you and sup at your womanhood like a starving beggar, drinking the nectar of the gods from the fountain of—”

“By the Maker! That’s enough!” Serenity interrupted, feeling the blush burn the tips of her ears. 

“Oh? Was that too much?” he asked and chuckled. “The journey is just as fun as the destination, my dear friend. He is the same man that revealed his feelings about you in the Circle, no?” 

“You remember him?” Serenity asked, surprised.

“How could I forget such an awkward professing of love?” Zevran asked. “I was going to tease you about it, but Leliana, ever the perceptive one, knew you harbored the same forbidden attraction. I do hope it was explosive—not that I think you should have taken the Circle down with you in the throes of passion. Do mages ever lose control of their magic when they climax, I wonder? That would be so very awkward, especially for a templar.” 

Serenity laughed, “No! Of course not!” 

“Truly? Just imagine, being an adolescent young man, learning about your body with the serving girl at the local whore house and setting the curtains ablaze or perhaps zapping her with a little lightning bolt when you reach release,” Zevran said and chuckled. “I would not be surprised if the boy Wynne set on fire was such a hapless victim.” 

Serenity laughed, “You’ve given some thought to mages in the bedroom. A little strange that you thought of Wynne in the same breath.” 

“Why is that so strange? Wynne is a lovely woman,” Zevran said. “They say it is usually a stressful or emotional moment that first causes people to discover their magic, no? A build up of tension of sorts? The magic is then released, yes?” 

Serenity snorted at the comparison between coming into magic and reaching orgasm. It certainly wasn’t anything like that for her, but she couldn’t speak for anybody else. From what she knew, magic was usually discovered through an unintended tragedy, sometimes in a fit of pique. “I’ve missed you, Zev.” 

“You are avoiding answering the question because it has merit,” Zevran laughed. “I’ve missed you too, my friend. Will you accompany me to the Black Emporium? I think I can sway the Antiquarian for a discount in exchange for information.” 

“The Black Emporium?” Serenity asked. “You know where it is? I’ve only heard rumors about its existence.” 

“Have you been checking your mail? Your presence is sought after everywhere. I’m most certain Xenon would have extended an invitation to you,” Zevran said as he led her into the undercity. 

“I’ll meet him now, in any case,” Serenity said. “Why are you in Kirkwall? Were you here to kill Meredith? It wouldn’t surprise me if somebody reached out to the Crows to have her deposed.” 

“No, no. That was just to repay Hawke for helping me with the Crows on my tail,” Zevran answered and stopped before a passageway. “You’ll have to wait here a moment. If I let you use the key, they might take it from me and break all the bones in my body. I rather like my bones unharmed.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I’ll only be a moment,” Zevran said and disappeared through a doorway. Not a minute later, he returned and took her hand to pull her through. So long as he held the key, the secret portal opened for her to enter with him. “All I had to say was ‘Hero of Ferelden.’”

Serenity followed Zevran inside and stopped when she saw the Antiquarian seated in the center of the room with the light pouring over him, illuminating every wrinkle and discoloration on his sagging skin, draped over his bones like a wet blanket. He had so many twisted limbs and, behind the book in his stiff, decrepit hands, too many faces. She could only think he had to have become that way through blood magic, similar to how the Harvester is made into a tangle of limbs. But he wasn’t possessed by a demon—at least, she didn’t think he was. 

“Ah, I should have warned you—don’t stare, my friend,” Zevran whispered. 

“Welcome to the Black Emporium,” the Antiquarian said, his voice disembodied and hard, like an aged oak creaking in the wind. “You are welcome here, Hero of Ferelden. May you find something you seek. I have quite an extensive library on the history of forbidden magic. It’s back there. Somewhere. I… think. I haven’t been able to turn my head to look for two centuries.” 

“Thank you,” Serenity said as she looked for the collection of books. She stopped at the statue of Andraste in nude repose. “Holy nipples of Andraste.” 

Zevran grinned, “I love that statue.” 

“Please do not fondle Andraste,” Xenon groaned. 

“I—I wasn’t going to fondle her,” Serenity said, stepping back. “But I’ve read about this statue. Philliam, a Bard! translated Foisine de Petitforet’s ‘Art and Shame.’ I would like to see one of these standing outside the Chantry.”

“Perhaps in Antiva, where we appreciate the beauty of the feminine form without shame,” Zevran said. “Fereldens are far too timid, no?” 

“I doubt even Antiva could smuggle a nude Andraste into the Chantry,” Serenity said. She stopped at a basket of socks and gasped, “Is this…? Is this what I think it is?” 

“Help yourself to a sock from the basket,” Xenon said. “But only one!” 

“Socks?” Zevran asked. “Magic socks?” 

“I pranked a senior enchanter after I read ‘The Interplay of Spirits in the Common Laundry Room’,” Serenity said, choosing her souvenir carefully. “This lucky sock is never leaving my pack. I can’t wait to show it to Cullen.” 

Zevran chuckled, “Is that your idea of foreplay? Sharing your laundry with—actually, I can see how that might be sexy.” 

“Not everything has to be about sex,” Serenity said, folding the sock carefully as she put it in her pack. “This is exciting! I actually found the mysteriously disappearing socks! And not a single match!” 

“You are a very funny girl,” Zevran said, “and a beautiful, deadly flower.” 

Serenity rolled her eyes and smiled as she made her way towards the bookshelf at the back of the room. She jumped when an echo of screams emitted from a box without hinges startled the life out of her. “Maker’s breath!” 

“Don’t you mean ‘Andraste’s holy nipples’?” Zevran asked and eyed the Belt of Promise set atop a barrel. “My dear friend, Xenon, I can tip you off to a priceless artifact. It might even have the properties you seek.” 

The Antiquarian grunted, a sound that sounded both skeptical and inquisitive. “What is it?” 

“A new kind of lyrium was unearthed in the Deep Roads,” Zevran continued. “Have you heard about it?” 

“Yes,” Xenon answered. “The dwarf, Bartrand, sought entrance to the Black Emporium with such an artifact. But he would not part with it.” 

“He did sell it,” Zevran said. “To somebody else. It killed her, but it didn’t go anywhere. If you want to collect it, I can tell you where it is, yes?” 

“Mmm,” Xenon groaned thoughtfully. “What do you want?” 

“A discount on this Belt of Promise, perhaps?” Zevran asked, lifting it up. 

Xenon scoffed, “One hundred sovereigns.” 

“That is hardly a discount,” Zevran protested. "Would you take fifty?" 

"Mm," Xenon grunted. "Fine." 

Zevran grinned as he opened his coin purse and said, “The body of the Knight-Commander is petrified and teeming with red lyrium. That idol Bartrand sold to her was forged into her sword, but now the red lyrium is forged into her body. I don’t think they know what to do with her.” 

“I’m sure it’s occurred to somebody that they should just drop her body into the bottom of the ocean,” Serenity said. “But then that might poison the water. Or, Maker forbid, cause some giant sea creature to become possessed by red lyrium. I’ve never seen a shark, but I certainly wouldn’t want to see one like that.” 

Zevran chuckled, “Oh, sharks, my dear, are entirely misunderstood. They do like red, however.” 

Serenity looked through the dusty collection of tomes carefully, recalling Finn’s chastising about how barbarically she’d manhandled the ancient texts in the Circle. She did not want to accidentally tear a page, especially if doing so might release a cranky demon. She’d hoped she might find a book with a history about the ancient darkspawn magisters and their magic, but her search proved fruitless. Anything put to parchment about the darkspawn and the taint would have been sealed away in Weisshaupt. Still, there were some fascinating anecdotes accompanying the spells in the tomes Xenon had collected. 

“Serenity?” Zevran prodded. “Did you find something you want to take with you? It will be dark soon.” 

“Oh, ah… no, I shouldn’t,” she said, carefully replacing the books on the shelf. A smaller book with a familiar binding and much younger leather, not yet discolored by the oils of one’s fingers or the long resting collection of dust, caught her eye from where it was lodged between the bookshelf and the wall like it had fallen between the cracks after being added carelessly to the collection of otherwise priceless tomes. She knelt down to free it from the tight space and opened it, gasping with glee, “Praise the Maker, I’ve found it!” 

“What? What?” Zevran asked, joining her to peer over her shoulder.

She quickly closed the cover when she felt him grinning at the title page for _Callipygian Cuirassiers._ “Oh, ah, it’s nothing—” 

“You saucy little mage,” Zevran laughed. “The Randy Dowager? I’ve read one of these tales. I gave the book to Isabela, but had I known you were a fan, I would have saved the book for you, my friend.” 

“What? Which one?” 

Zevran chuckled, “ _The Horned Ones._ I thought she would appreciate the irony of a sensual Qunari tale, but she was not as amused as I was.” 

“Damn,” Serenity said, “I don’t have that one yet.” 

“Xenon, my friend,” Zevran said, “Can we take this book off your hands?”

Xenon grunted, “Exhibitions for the noble of thought but spry of step? Take it.”

“Thank you,” Serenity said, sliding the serial into her pack with the prized sock. “I hope to see you again, Xenon.” 

“You are always welcome, Hero of Ferelden,” Xenon answered. “Perhaps, if you find something priceless on your adventures, you will bring it to me, hm?” 

“I will certainly keep you in mind,” she answered. She wanted to bring him a pinch of sacred ashes, curious if it would do anything to alleviate his ailment. If it broke the spell upon him, however, he would no longer be immortal and would most likely die. It seemed only a powerful magister would be able to really reverse his aging without breaking his immortality. She didn’t know Xenon well, certainly not well enough to call him a friend, but she still pitied him for the state he was in—immortal and immobile, decayed beyond recognition. It was such a cruel fate. 

The urn of sacred ashes, however, had gone missing after she found them. She didn’t think anyone else would have found them before Leliana and Genetivi led their expedition into the temple, but somebody had. Flemeth came to mind, but perhaps Xenon was resourceful enough to have procured them already. 

“I can accompany you to the Storm Coast,” Zevran offered. “Or as far as Sundermount if you’re passing through.” 

“There’s an entrance to the Deep Roads in the Storm Coast,” Serenity said, “but first I desperately need a bath and a change of clothes.” 

“Oh? You do not want to keep Cullen’s musk with you?” Zevran teased.

“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” Serenity asked, fixing him with a look. 

“Never!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serenity's story continues in Threnodies, which encompasses the time between DA2 and Inquisition.


End file.
